


Romani ite domum-Romans go home!

by steeleye



Series: Back in the SPQR. [5]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Monty Python’s Life of Brian/Jason and the Argonauts/myths and legends., btvs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 82,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1423861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steeleye/pseuds/steeleye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apart from the sanitation, the medicine, education, wine, public order, irrigation, roads, a fresh water system, and public health, what had the Romans ever done for Dawn? Includes gratuitous sex and violence; watch out for the blood, it’s a bugger to wash out of your toga.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

1.

**Romani ite domum.**

_*Romans go home!*_

By Steeleye.

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Monty Python’s Life of Brian. I write these stories for fun not profit.

Crossover: Monty Python’s Life of Brian/Jason and the Argonauts/myths and legends.

Spelling, Punctuation, and Grammar; Written in glorious English-English which is different to American-English.

Timeline: Set during and just after the events depicted in my fic, ‘Morituri te salutamus’.

Words: Loads, some of them are even spelt correctly and put into the right order!

Warnings: Gratuitous sex and violence; watch out for the blood, it’s a bugger to wash out of your toga.

Summary: BtVS, Monty Python’s Life of Brian/Myths and Legends xover; Apart from the sanitation, the medicine, education, wine, public order, irrigation, roads, a fresh water system, and public health, what had the Romans ever done for Dawn?

0=0=0=0

**BOOK FOUR.**

**Part one.**

s there first,

**Romani ite domum.**

_*Romans go home!*_

**The Prologue.**

**Sunnydale, 22nd May 2001.**

“She will come for you soon,” the scabby, demonic follower of Glory informed Dawn as he walked away from her along the ramp and back towards the tower.

Standing at the end of the ramp, Dawn struggled against the bonds that held her wrists; desperation and anxiety filled her heart as she looked down towards the ground far, far below.

“Buffy,” she sobbed on seeing her sister lying face down on the ground at the base of the tower.

Tears filled her eyes as she realised her sister had been killed trying to save her, of Xander and the others there was no sign. Sniffing back her tears, Dawn realised with a growing sense of alarm that she was on her own now; it was up to her to save the world. Pulling at the ropes that tied her wrists to the tower her heart almost jumped into her mouth as she felt one of the knots start to come loose. Hardly daring to hope, she twisted her hand and wrist until the knot began to unravel and eventually fell free. Obviously Glory’s scabby followers had never been Boy Scouts or they’d have been able to tie better knots; the thought made Dawn smile for a moment until she remembered where she was. Twisting around, Dawn started to work on the other knot with her free hand. Tears of frustration filled her eyes as the knot refused to come undone, frantically she clawed with trembling fingers at the knot ripping off a finger nail in her desperation to get free.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Dawn almost fell to her knees as the knot came untied. With both arms free, she was able to edge around the hole in the ramp, through which she was supposed to bleed and cause glory’s portal to open. Moving as quickly as she dared on the rickety platform, she got to the tower proper and looked down. Groaning in despair, she took a step backwards not believing what she’d seen; she looked down once again towards the base of the tower. Half way up the tower was Glory herself, climbing steadily up the walkway that wound it’s way around the tower and towards where Dawn stood. In her hand was a long sharp knife that glinted menacingly in the moonlight; on the Hellgod’s face was the happy, insane smile of a monster that’d be going home any minute now.

Trembling with fear, Dawn backed away from the tower. The tears started to fill her eyes once more as she realised that there was no escape, no happy ending waiting for her, she knew what she had to do. Sobbing quietly to herself Dawn made her way to the end of the ramp and stood there for a moment trying to compose herself. She wished she could hold her sister one last time, she wished she’d been a better little sister and not said all the hurtful, hateful things that she’d said to Buffy over the last few months; she wished her mom was there to hold her and make everything right again. 

But they weren’t, there was no one there but herself, a terrified fourteen year old girl who had to save the world. Glancing over her shoulder Dawn saw Glory getting closer and closer, any minute now the Hellgod would be standing at the end of the ramp. Knowing that if that happened she wouldn’t have the strength or courage to jump, Glory would rob her of her determination and win…again, Dawn resigned herself to her fate. Standing at the edge of the ramp, she sniffed and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand; after taking one last look towards the rising sun, she closed her eyes and stepped off the tower.

0=0=0=0

**Judea, over Two Thousand Years Earlier…**

…Saturday afternoon…

…just after lunchtime.

Moving her head slightly, Dawn spat sand and bits of straw from her mouth. This couldn’t be right, she thought, she’d jumped, she should be dead and not spitting out a mouthful of grit. Letting her head rest on the warm sand again, she kept her eyes firmly closed for fear of what she might see if she opened them. Obviously she’d fallen into one of Glory’s hell dimensions and right now she was surrounded by hideous monsters that were standing around waiting for her to open her eyes. No doubt this was all part of some horrible, sadistic game that hell fiends played just before the helpless fourteen year old girl opened her eyes and they did all manner of unspeakable things to her.

Vague memories that Dawn knew couldn’t be her own, crept into her mind and did nothing to still her fears; she remembered men shouting and arrows flashing through the air. She remembered the sound of panicking men and frightened animals screaming in pain as she’d turned to run. She remembered how the sand had dragged at her feet slowing her down; she remembered turning to look over her shoulder to see if anyone was pursuing her. Then she remembered tripping on her dress or on a stone. Falling she tried to save herself, she saw the sharp edged stone rushing up to meet her, the instant of pain as she hit her head on the wickedly pointed rock and then she remembered nothing but blackness and a feeling of peace before waking up in this new hell.

Whimpering quietly, Dawn seemed to have her worst fears confirmed as she heard voices speaking in a language she didn’t understand. Whoever it was, there were several of them and they shouted excitedly to each other as they moved around the ambush site. Every so often there’d be a sound like ripping cloth or of a box being broken open. Keeping her eyes firmly closed and lying as still as she could, Dawn waited for the monsters to go away.

Her heart almost jumped into her mouth as she realised that one of the monsters was coming towards her, she could hear its footsteps getting closer as it advanced towards her across the sand. What should she do, she asked herself, as the feeling of panic grew in her chest like some numbing poison that threatened to rob her of rational thought. Should she jump to her feet and try to run? This idea was rejected as Dawn remembered that she was surrounded by hellfiends who only lived to do depraved and no doubt really gross things to terrified teenage girls. No, the safest thing for her to do was to lie still and hope all the monsters would get bored and go away.

Resisting the urge to start crying or jump up and start to run, Dawn lay as still as she could, hardly even daring to breathe. Hearing the footsteps stop, she could almost feel the monster standing over her, its eyes roaming over her defenceless body, no doubt thinking of all the obscene, icky things it was going to do to her. ‘I’m dead, I’m dead’, Dawn repeated over and over in her mind thinking that if she could persuade herself she could convince the monster and he’d leave her alone.

Fighting down the urge to scream in terror, Dawn felt herself being rolled roughly over onto her back. The monster started to pull what felt like rings from her fingers and bracelets from her wrists, Dawn wondered where all this stuff had come from. But that wasn’t important right now, she had to convince this, no doubt loathsome and horrific creature, that she was dead and not worth the effort of bothering with anymore. Once again she almost cried out as she felt the depraved, fiend’s hands roam over her body. By some tremendous effort of will she stopped herself crying out or opening her eyes as the creature’s rough hands lingered on her defenceless skin. What felt like a necklace was pulled roughly from around her neck and still she didn’t cry out. It was only when the monster pulled the ear ring she hadn’t realised she was wearing from her ear did Dawn scream out and open her eyes.

“OOOW!” Dawn wailed as her hand went automatically to her ear and her eyes flew open.

Kneeling over her she saw a man, an ordinary man with no fangs or claws or tentacles, just an ordinary man. He was, however, possibly the ugliest man she’d ever seen, which made her feel slightly more justified in keeping her eyes closed for so long. His face was pockmarked with scars and he had a long knife scar that ran across one cheek. His teeth were blackened and crocked and his breath smelt strongly of decay and garlic. He was dressed in dirty robes, which might have been, at some far distant point in the past, white. He also looked like he thought he was the luckiest man in the world.

“Get offa me you freak!” Dawn lifted her arms and tried to hit the man in the face but he caught her wrists and forced her arms down so they rested either side of her head.

The man climbed across her body and sat on her stomach, Dawn groaned in fear as she realised what was going to happen. Still holding down her arms against her weak struggles the brigand (it was the only word than Dawn could think of that fully described the man) bent towards her and brought his face to within a couple of inches of her own. The stink of the brigand’s rotting teeth and the fear of what was going to happen to her almost made Dawn throw-up.

“You be good, girl,” said the brigand in heavily accented English, “maybe I won’t kill you when I finish.”

Squealing in fear, Dawn tried to fight her way free as the brigand ripped open the bodice of her dress. His hard, rough hands slid over her breasts as he squeezed them painfully making her cry out again in pain and fear.

“Please,” Dawn sobbed, “please don’t hurt me…”

The brigand laughed evilly at her piteous cries for mercy. Just for a moment Dawn thought the brigand had had second thoughts about raping her, as he got off her stomach. However, her hopes were soon dashed, he was only altering his position, she felt one of his hands slide across her body down towards her legs. Still fighting feebly she felt him start to pull her skirt up around her hips. After pushing her legs apart with his knee he knelt between them and laughed in anticipation of what he was about to do. Looking up at the brigand through tear blurred eyes, Dawn saw him start to fumble with the fastenings of his own clothes.

“Please, don’t,” Dawn begged as her tears rolled down her face, “I’m only fourteen, please…”

As he looked into her eyes and sniggered at her pleadings, suddenly the brigand’s eyes went wide with surprise and his body stiffened; the head of an arrow appeared out of the front of his throat. Blood sprayed over Dawn’s face and breasts causing her to scream again, this time in a mixture of fear and disgust. Slowly the brigand started to fall forward until he landed across her body and lay still. The brigand lay like a dead weight on top of her and even Dawn could tell there was something badly wrong going on here. It was about then that the sound of galloping horses started to register in her fear clouded mind. Pushing at the brigand’s body, she managed to crawl from under him a little before pushing herself up on her elbow and looking around.

Her mind didn’t want to accept what she was seeing and tried to tell her that this was all some terrible nightmare. Any moment now she’d wake up and find herself in her own little bed at home with Buffy telling her everything was going to be fine. The nightmare, however, had different ideas and kept playing through her mind like some gory Technicolor main feature. Men on horses galloped around shooting the brigands down with bows or cutting them down with swords. Some of the men wore tunics and trousers; these were the men that were shooting the bows. The other men on horses all wore red tunics and cloaks. They had helmets on their heads and rode about cutting men down efficiently with swords or throwing spears into their backs as they tried to run away. Pushing at the body of the brigand that was still lying half on top of her, Dawn found her eyes riveted to the arrow stuck through the man’s neck. 

“Oh god!” Dawn gasped; this last vision of hell proved too much for her stomach and she vomited onto the sand; coughing and spluttering she didn’t notice the man who’d jumped off his horse until he was almost standing on top of her.

“THE PRINCESS LIVES!” He cried as he knelt by her side, “Don’t be frightened Princess,” the man pushed the brigand from off Dawn’s legs.

“Princess?” Dawn muttered as she starred in horror at her saviour.

The man wore a red tunic with heavy embroidery around the cuffs, neck and hem, his trousers were made of some light brown material and he wore red leather shoes or boots. In his left hand he held a bow and on the wide leather belt around his waist hung a long curved sword and a knife.

“Don’t worry, Princess,” he told her in a kind, calming voice, “you’re safe now.”

Dawn didn’t really believe him, how could she be safe with all these men running around killing people and calling her Princess? Resisting the urge to curl up into a little ball and quietly go insane, Dawn tried to speak.

“I…” Dawn tried to form a coherent sentence but failed so only disjointed words came from her mouth, “Where? What? Princess?” Lifting her hand to her head she felt something wet and sticky on her fingers, pulling her hand away she saw blood on her fingers, she gasped, “On-my-god!”

“Quick!” The man turned to where a number of other men jumped off their horses, “Bring the Lady Naheed, the Princess is hurt!”

There were cries of consternation from the lips of several of the men before one of them literally jumped into his saddle and galloped off.

“Does it hurt, Princess?” asked the man in red.

Not being completely stupid (whatever Buffy might think) Dawn decided that right now might be a good time to play along with what these people were saying. Obviously they thought she was some sort of princess, which was good, right? Perhaps they were her bodyguards, they’d certainly dealt with the bad guy’s quickly enough. Pushing herself up into a sitting position Dawn put her hand to her head.

“Ooow!” Dawn moaned pathetically, “My head hurts.”

Not closing her eyes to block out the sights that greeted them, Dawn saw dead brigands and animals lying scattered on the sand all around her, pretending to be someone she wasn’t looked like it was going to be the least of her problems.

“Where am I?” Dawn asked, “What happened?”

“Don’t you remember?” Red-tunic-man asked a frown of concern crossing his face, “We were ambushed after we made camp.”

“No,” Dawn shook her head and winced, her head did in fact feel as if it she’d hit it on something.

“We’re only a few miles from the Judean border, Princess,” explained Red-tunic-man, “we were lucky enough to run into a Roman patrol,” his eyes grew dark with concern, “don’t you remember anything?”

“No,” once again Dawn shook her head and tried to look as pathetic as possible; which wasn’t all that difficult seeing how she was covered in blood. Plus the way she was feeling right at that moment, was about as far from ‘fine and dandy’ as you could get and still be alive.

Red-tunic-man looked horrified as he called to his men to bring blankets and build a shelter to keep the sun off the ‘Princess’. While all this activity was going on around her, Dawn took the opportunity to think; Judea was the old name for Israel, wasn’t it? It was slowly becoming obvious to Dawn what had happened; having jumped from Glory’s tower she’d apparently died and been sent by God, or whoever, to some sort of Judo-Christian adventure world. This new reality came complete with Romans, brigands and guys with bows who seemed convinced she was some sort of princess. Smiling to herself as spears were driven into the sand all around her and blankets were draped over them to block out the sun, Dawn decided that this must be some weird sort of reward.

It seemed clear to her that having screwed with her life, such as it had been, by making her ‘The Key’; God, or whoever was in charge was trying to make amends by giving her a second chance at a life. However, Dawn frowned, she could have done without the robbery and attempted rape intro. This could be so cool, everyone thought she was a Princess, which was only as it should be, hadn’t she always thought that she was special and had been kidnapped as a baby? Although she’d loved her Mom and even Buffy, she’d always known she was different and not just because of the whole ‘key’ thing.

“KITTEN!”

Looking around, Dawn saw a short, plump, woman climb down from her horse and rush towards her; she wore a long green dress with lots of jewellery that rattled and jingled as she ran. Sliding to a halt in the soft hand she almost threw herself at Dawn and enfolded her in a warm, busty embrace heedless of the blood that covered Dawn’s body and clothes.

“Oh my poor little, Kitten,” cried the woman sobbing into Dawn’s hair, “what did they do to you?”

“Hey!” Dawn called, her voice muffled by the woman’s enormous breasts, “I’m like okay, y’know? ‘Cept I can’t remember anything.”

“What!?” The woman released Dawn from her hold for a moment, “What do you mean? You can’t remember anything?”

“Like I totally don’t remember anything,” Dawn explained slowly, “Like, who are you?”

“Noooo!” Again the woman wailed as she clutched Dawn to her bosom, “What have they done to you,” she repeated, “what have they done?” As quick as lightning Busty-woman turned a hard eyed glare on Red-tunic-man, “This is your fault; the Queen will hang you by your balls for this!”

“I did nothing wrong,” Red-tunic-man snapped back, “it was your idea to stop here, and then leave the camp to go hunting.” Red-tunic paused for a moment, “The brigands didn’t have a chance to rape her, I killed the one who tried.”

“Well,” Busty-woman replied grudgingly, her attempt at having the princess assassinated had failed, this time; it would do no good if she was found out before the little bitch was dead, “I suppose you’re right…”

“Of course I’m right, you silly woman,” Red-tunic growled back, “and look,” he gestured to the Roman cavalry soldiers, “now we have all these fine Romans to escort us all the way to Jerusalem.”

“Oh all right,” Busty-woman replied reluctantly as she stoked Dawn’s bloody hair, the Romans would be another complication to her plans, but she’d think of a way around it.

“I say, how’s the princess, what?” This was a new voice and Dawn struggled free of Busty-woman’s arms a little so she could see who’d spoken.

“Wow!” She gasped quietly, it was a real live Roman soldier, an officer by the looks of the fancy plume thing on his helmet.

Dawn’s eyes roamed up and down the Roman’s body a couple of times before she regained control of herself and realised what she was doing. Something was telling her that he had to be the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Tall, bronzed, a nice smile that showed straight, white teeth and gorgeous blue eyes with the longest, softest boy-eyelashes that she’d ever seen.

“I’m fine!” Dawn smiled and tried to stand up, she was held down by Busty-woman who was a lot stronger than she looked.

“No you’re not,” Busty-woman told Dawn before turning to speak to the Roman. “The Princess Roshan has suffered a fall and has hurt her head.”

“Oh!” The Roman cast Dawn a concerned look, “Jolly bad luck an’ all that but, can she be moved?” The officer asked as he glanced around at the desert sands, “I’d rather we moved away from here before these brigand chappy’s friends come looking for them, don’t-cha-know?”

“I don’t know…” Busty-woman gave Dawn a concerned look; if there was any chance of the brigands she’d paid to kill the princess coming back and finishing the job, she wanted to be here.

“Look,” Dawn smiled, “I’m fine, honest, I’m sure if someone was to help me up,” she looked pointedly at the young Roman officer; she’d forgotten that she must look like a horror show all covered in blood, “and onto a horse I’ll be totally okay.”

Actually Dawn had no idea if she’d be ‘okay’ and as far as she knew she’d never ridden a horse in her life.

“I agree with the Tribune,” Red-tunic-man said as he climbed to his feet, “it would be wise to get as far away from here as quickly as we can, I’ll have the men build the Princess a litter.”

“Well if you think we must,” Busty-woman got to her feet and started to help Dawn up; damn she thought, but it couldn’t be helped there’d be other opportunities to kill the spoilt brat.

Once standing on her own feet again, Dawn fought down the feeling of nausea and dizziness that swept over her for an instant, it wouldn’t be cool to throw-up in front of the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Out of nowhere the question popped into her mind; I wonder if he’s married? Slightly shocked be this thought, Dawn distracted herself by looking around the camp site, she really wished she hadn’t as she started to get an inkling of the full horror of her situation. Dead people and animals lay all around, blood stained the sand between the boxes and bundles that had been pulled open and their contents strewn on the ground; Dawn swayed a little and clutched hold of busty-woman’s arm.

“Don’t bother with the litter thing,” she gasped, “get me a horse I’ll ride.”

“But…” Busty-woman started to object; all the time hoping the princess would fall from her horse and do a better job of dashing out her own brains.

“Hey!” Dawn snapped angrily, the words coming from somewhere other than her own mind, “Look I’m Princess Roshan right?” Busty-woman and Red-tunic both nodded their heads, “So, you have to do what I say, right?” Again the soldier and the lady nodded. “Right, like I said, I want to get away from here as quickly as possible…”

“Brave gal, I’ll have one of my men bring a spare horse, Princess,” The Roman office gestured to one of his men.

“Thank-you,” Dawn replied as regally as she knew how, “Mr…?”

“Tribune Acacius Varro, Princess,” Varro smiled and gave Dawn a slight bow, “at your service.”

0=0=0=0


	2. Chapter 2

2.

**The Road to Jerusalem.**

Holding on with grim determination to her reins and saddle, Dawn tried to look like someone who’d been riding horses since she was a small child. After her rescue from the brigands and her brush with attempted rape, the Lady Naheed (as she discovered the busty woman was called) had found her a new dress to replace the one ripped by her would be rapist and helped her clean up and change. While Dawn was getting dressed, and having her wound treated, Captain Sher (the commander of her personal guards who she’d been calling ‘red tunic man’ in her head) had got his men organised. They’d collected all of the party’s belongings together from where they’d been scattered by the brigands and retied them into bundles and placed them onto the backs of horses.

It had taken, Dawn guessed, almost an hour to get everything organised. During this time, Tribune Varro had got more and more agitated. He seemed convinced that they were about to be attacked by a much larger force of brigands and kept casting nervous looks out across the desert. Luckily no ravening hordes of bandits turned up and after everything had been packed up and everyone mounted (however precariously) on a horse the small column rode off at a fast walk across the sand. Eventually they came to a road, not a very good road true, little more than a dusty track really. The Tribune turned the column to the right and they all trotted off along the road with Dawn bouncing along in her saddle doing her best not to fall off.

As they rode along the stony track, Dawn carefully questioned Naheed about her background and what they were doing here. Seemingly concerned for her charge’s well being, Naheed willingly answered Dawn’s questions obviously hoping that talking about the past would jog her princess’ memory.

It appeared that everyone was convinced that Dawn was this Princess Roshan (a name which meant ‘bright light’) second in line to the throne of Hayasa; a small kingdom to the west of Judea and roughly where Jordan was in Dawn’s world. The Queen (it seemed that Hayasa was always ruled by a Queen) had sent Dawn or at least her daughter Roshan out into the world in order to find herself a rich and influential Roman husband. For a moment Dawn wondered what sort of woman would send her fourteen year old daughter out into the world with instructions to get married. The answer came to her after a little thought; probably the sort of woman who’s kingdom (which couldn’t be the right word seeing how it was ruled by a Queen) was surrounded by powerful enemies eager to snap it up and make it their own.

From what Lady Naheed was saying, Hayasa stood at the junction of several important trade routes and was very rich despite its small size. The Great Queen saw Rome as the only alternative to having her country swallowed up and destroyed by its larger neighbours. The Queen had sent Dawn out to find a Roman husband so as to form some sort of alliance with Rome by marrying someone rich and important. Listening to all this only increased Dawn’s feeling that she’d always been more important than she’d appeared to be, however the whole getting married thing sounded a little bit icky, after all she was still only fourteen. Oddly another part of her brain was telling her that this was all perfectly normal, which Dawn found quite disturbing. Letting all this new information percolate through her brain, Dawn decided that she’d need time to think of a way around getting married and try to remember her history lessons. In the mean time she’d play along with what everyone was saying.

0=0=0=0

Having gained a little confidence after riding for a couple of hours and not falling off (in fact it seemed to be becoming second nature to her, which Dawn thought was strange) she rode to the front of the column and sort out Tribune Varro. Trying to tell herself that this was simply so she could get a different perspective on what she’d been told. Deep down inside, Dawn knew it was because she really-really just wanted an excuse to talk to the handsome Roman officer.

“Hi!” Dawn smiled as she managed to get her horse to walk along side Varro’s.

“Good afternoon, Princess,” Varro nodded politely at Dawn in greeting, “How are you feeling, how’s the old head?”

“Fine!” Dawn grinned before qualifying her statement, she didn’t want to appear as if she’d recovered too quickly, “Well, you know, better than I was and you should call me Dawn.”

Frowning, Dawn stopped talking for a moment, when she’d tried to say ‘Dawn’ it’d come out as ‘Roshan’, this made her frown; this was obviously something else that she was going to need to think about.

“Or,” Dawn thought quickly, she really wanted this guy to like her and she’d heard that one of the ways people (like ‘boyfriends’ and ‘girlfriends’) had of showing they liked each other was by having pet names for each other. “Call me…erm…” Dawn tried to think up a pet name for herself, “Rosh or-or,” Dawn realised that this really wasn’t working out so well and she was starting to make herself look foolish, “Shan, or-or just call me Roshan, huh, please?”

“Ros?” Varro turned to her and smiled at her the same way that Xander had often smiled at her. 

Just for a moment Dawn felt herself drown in Varro’s wonderful, warm smile and deep blue eyes; she imagined his hands on her body and his lips on her… With a little cry of alarm, Dawn snapped back from the warm wonderful world where Varro was doing the sorts of things that she didn’t even know she knew about and back to the world where she was concentrating on not falling off her horse.

“Yeah,” Dawn smiled uncertainly, she felt her skin flush; oh god, she thought, I’m blushing he probably thinks I’m a stupid little girl! “Erm, what can I call you?” Dawn asked after they’d ridden along the track a more few yards.

“I’m Tribune Acacius Ovidious Varro, don’t-cha-know,” the young officer informed her, “you can call me Acacius or Varro, which ever you like, Princess.”

“Oh, no I didn’t,” Dawn frowned as she slumped down in her saddle, she’d been right he only saw her as a little girl a sister or something, “yeah, right.”

Riding next to the young woman, Varro smiled to himself; the Princess was quite attractive in an exotic, foreign way and seemed more intelligent than the average young woman her age.

“There’s an oasis up ahead, good water and palm trees, quite romantic really,” Varro pointed down the track, “if you like that sort of thing; we’ll camp there tonight. In the morning I’ll deliver you and your people to the governor’s palace in Jerusalem.”

For a moment, Dawn’s disappointment at failing to get on friendly terms with Varro was forgotten. In the morning she’d see Jerusalem, something that she’d never thought about doing. Letting her horse drop back so she was riding next to Naheed, Dawn sank into self pity, the first guy she’d been remotely interested in (other than Xander and that she now realised was just a schoolgirl crush) didn’t like her, she sighed heavily as she fell in next to Naheed.

“So, little Kitten,” Naheed shivered inside at the use of the little brat’s pet name as she leaned over towards Dawn, “how have you been getting on with our fine, brave, and handsome Roman saviour?”

“He says I should call him Varro,” Dawn sulked.

“Then why so sad, Kitten?” Naheed looked at Dawn in surprise.

“What?” Dawn frowned at her companion.

“Roman’s are more than a little odd in there ways, not like normal people at all.” Naheed smiled outwardly while hating the girl beside her on the inside, “If he says to call him Varro it means he likes you…”

“It does?” Dawn was bewildered she’d really thought he’d given her the brush off.

“Is he rich?” Naheed asked, “Does he come from a powerful family?”

“I-I don’t know,” Dawn was more than a little confused, things were moving far too quickly for her to get them straight in her mind.

“Well you need to find out right quick,” Naheed told her, “you don’t want to waste your time on some penniless, no account adventurer, however handsome he might be.” Naheed looked around to check no one was listening, “On the other hand, it would be better to marry a rich man you like than one you don’t, so, if this young man is rich and important you should snap him up as soon as possible.”

“I should?” Dawn replied uncertainly, she’d only just met the guy and she was really only looking for a boyfriend not a husband; no, said the other part of her brain that seemed to have a mind of its own, you’re looking for a husband.

“You should,” agreed Naheed with a firm nod of the head, by the gods the girl was even more stupid than she’d thought, “the gods are smiling on you by sending you a prospective husband so quickly and…” Naheed giggled at the thought of the vile Princess being raped to death by entire Centuries of Roman soldiers, “I’ve heard it said that Roman men are prodigious lovers.”

“They are?” Dawn felt even more unsure of herself now, perhaps she should give up on the whole idea of having a boyfriend, at least for now.

“So I’ve been told,” again Naheed nodded her head, “so tonight when we camp I suggest you fine a way of spending a little time with your Varro…”

“My Varro?” Dawn whispered, he was ‘her Varro’ now, when had that happened?

“Find out if he’s rich and important,” Naheed told her, “then make yourself desirable to him.”

“Desirable?” Dawn wasn’t quite sure what Naheed was getting at but she thought she might be able to guess.

0=0=0=0

After a rather restless night, haunted by visions of her dead sister and rapists with poor dental hygiene, Dawn awoke to another sunny, warm day in the past. Having come surprisingly quickly to terms with her new situation she’d decided to accept the hand life had dealt her; after all it was a case of having to. As far as she could see there was no way for her to get home and what would be the point anyway? Her sister and mother were dead her father had vanished off the face of the earth. Before she’d jumped she’d not caught a glimpse of any of her other friends, what was there for her back in Sunnydale?

Here on the other hand, she had people who appeared to like her, the way Naheed called her ‘Kitten’ spoke of a long time relationship. Captain Sher and his men seemed devoted to her and Tribune Varro… Well, Tribune Varro was something of a problem. As she’d been told to do, she’d tried to find out about his family and bank account but as she didn’t want to appear to be a ‘pushy slut’ she’d not actually found out much. As for the whole, ‘make yourself desirable’ thing, that hadn’t gone so well either. Her ‘womanly wiles’ had bounced off him like arrows rebounding off that breast plate he wore, perhaps she wasn’t doing it right; Dawn decided to ask Naheed about it later. A sudden thought entered her mind, what if Varro was gay? That would be just her luck, fall for the gay guy!

0=0=0=0

It was mid morning and the sun was just starting to get hot when they began to meet a lot of foot traffic on the road. Men and women in what looked like the sort of robes that Arabs wore in Dawn’s time, passed them by or got out of the way of the Roman’s horses. As they went on down the road, Dawn noticed the looks that these people were giving her and the Roman officer beside her.

“What’s with all the daggers looks?” Dawn asked Varro; she’d been riding next to him for most of the morning.

“Oh, that’s nothing to be worried about, Princess,” Varro gave a bitter laugh, “They just hate us Roman’s and anyone who’s a friend of ours.”

“Like me?” Dawn asked casting a worried glance around at all the people who looked at her with hate filled eyes.

“I’m afraid so, Princess,” Varro agreed sadly, “even beautiful young women like you…”

Dawn missed the rest of what Varro was saying, she was too busy thinking, ‘he thinks I’m beautiful’ for her to pay much attention; that had to be the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her.

“…so you see,” Varro’s voice penetrated Dawn’s mind once more, “even after all we’ve done for them, y’know, the water system, law and order, public health, baths, wine, the ungrateful sods, excuse my Aramaic, would still cut your throat as soon as look at you.”

“Sorry, what?” Dawn smiled, “I wasn’t listening…” thinking that had been the wrong thing to say she tried to save herself, “I mean I was thinking about what you’d said and I totally lost track of what you were saying and I didn’t mean to sound as if I was ignoring you…” 

Dawn ran out of breath and stopped talking.

“That’s alright,” Varro actually sounded as if it was alright, “pretty girls like you…”

Once again Dawn started to drift off to the land of, ‘he thinks I’m pretty’; with a great effort of will she dragged herself back to the here and now.

“…they’re all religious fanatics don’t-cha-know,” Varro gestured to the people all around, “think they’re special,” Varro snorted derisively, “the chosen people or something.”

“They do?” Dawn found herself urging her horse closer to Varro’s

“Mad the lot of them,” Varro obviously didn’t like the locals, “y’know they only have one god? Bloody atheists!”

“Only one! That’s like, totally weird,” Dawn tried to sound surprised and look shocked, from the expression on Varro’s face she thought she must have pulled it off.

“That’s right,” Varro nodded, “and as for these so-called messiahs…”

“Messiahs?” Dawn asked.

“Yes,” Varro nodded, “it means teacher or something,” he explained, “what they really are, are insane holy men who whip up disaffection to Roman rule….and, like I say, after all we’ve done for them.”

“Yeah,” Dawn nodded her head in agreement; just at the moment if Varro had said the sky was green she’d have agreed with him, she really didn’t know what was happening to her, “So what was it you said the Roman’s have done for them?”

“Well,” Varro laughed before repeating himself, “there’s law and order,” he counted the points off on his fingers, “the roads, public baths, schools, medicine, improved agriculture, the new aqueducts and the wine of course.”

“So quite a lot really,” Dawn looked around at the sullen faces of the locals, “y’know put like that it does seem a little ungrateful of them.”

“I’m glad you see it that way,” Varro smiled and nodded at her, “it’s obvious that you have brains as well as beauty.”

Yet again, Dawn drifted off to a place with only herself and Varro in it, he was obviously intelligent because he’d quickly recognised her for what she truly was, beautiful and intelligent. It’d been hard for Dawn always being in the shadow of her big sister. Not only was Buffy attractive (Dawn found she could admit this to herself now her sister was dead) and she had the whole ‘big sister’ thing going for her, Dawn also had the ‘slayer thing’ to deal with. Having an older, attractive big sister was bad enough, but when said big sister saved the world several times a year, what chance did the little sister have?

None. 

Her joy at having found someone who seemed to like her and that her sister wasn’t going to steal away or make fun of; was spoilt only by the realisation that her sister was dead. All things considered, Dawn would actually prefer to have her sister alive and being a great big pain in her butt than having her dead and gone. The though made her sad and drove her happier mood of a moment before away.

“Why so sad, Princess?” Varro asked quietly, “I hope I didn’t frighten you with my tales about the locals,” he gave a self deprecating laugh, “I know I do tend to go on about them but they make me so angry.”

“That’s okay,” Dawn sniffed back the tears and forced a smile, “I was thinking about home and it made me a little sad, so,” Dawn decided to stop acting like a cry baby and start acting like the powerful woman everyone seemed to think she was, “where are all these people going?”

“There’s probably one of these messiah fellows preaching out in the wilderness somewhere,” Varro gestured to the surrounding hills, “they like to do that now and again, don’t-cha-know?”

“No I didn’t,” Dawn replied seriously, “Can we go see?” 

“I-I suppose so,” Varro replied uncertainly, “if the Lady Naheed doesn’t object.”

“Oh,” Dawn smiled knowingly “I’m sure she won’t.”

After halting the column by the side of the road, Varro rode back and asked Lady Naheed if it would be alright for him to take Dawn to see the holy man preach. Naheed readily agreed and even stopped Sher from sending any of his men along with the couple pointing out that Princess Roshan was quite safe in the young officer’s care. In reality she was hoping that a mob of religious fanatics might tear the princess and the hated Roman to pieces thus saving her a great deal of trouble. 

Leaving the column to continue on its way under a Decurion, Dawn and Varro trotted away from the road (by now Dawn felt reasonably sure she wouldn’t fall off her horse and make a fool of herself) and followed the locals until they came to a sort of mount where a man stood preaching to a large crowd.

“Don’t press too close,” Varro advised in a whisper, “stay near the edge of the crowd and we should be safe, see,” he pointed to where pairs of Roman soldiers that were dotted around the crowd, “the local garrison commander has sent some Auxiliaries to keep order.”

Nodding her head in understanding, Dawn tried to hear what the preacher was saying, “I wish he’d speak up,” she complained, “did you hear what he said?”

“Blessed are the cheese makers, I think,” Varro laughed quietly, puzzled as to why cheese makers should come in for special treatment. “I wonder why he thinks cheese makers are so important?”

“I don’t think its meant to be taken literally,” Dawn whispered, “it probably refers to all manufacturers of dairy products.”

“Oh yes, I see,” Varro nodded his head, thinking how intelligent (and beautiful) the Princess was for such a young woman, “Oh!” Varro stained to hear what the preacher said next, “Did you hear that?”

“Blessed are the Greek?” Dawn replied uncertainly.

“I wonder if he means all of them or just one in particular,” Varro mused.

“Sounds like he’s going to inherit the earth,” Dawn shrugged; she was starting to think that Varro was right, all these people were, like completely nutso!

“I don’t suppose you caught his name did you?” Varro grinned at Dawn, “Sounds like the sort of fellow it’d be good to get to know.”

“Excuse me Sir.” Varro and Dawn turned to find one of the Auxiliaries standing close by.

“Yes soldier?” Varro replied.

“Couldn’t help overhearing you an’ your lady, sir,” the soldier nodded in Dawn’s direction, “but he said, ‘blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the world’.”

“He did?” Varro replied as he raised an eyebrow, “Thank-you, soldier.”

“No worries, sir,” the soldier said before bracing to attention and turning away.

“Oh that’s nice,” Dawn smiled, her mind going all ‘gooey’ from being mistaken for Varro’s ‘lady’, “I always thought the meek deserved something.”

“I expect,” Varro leaned closer to Dawn so they could speak more privately (Dawn’s heart hammered in her chest from the excitement of being so close to her one-true-love), “that by the time the meek get the earth no one else will want it!”

Before either of the young people could say anything else, a fight broke out amongst a group of people over to their right.

“See what I mean?” Varro gestured sadly to the struggling, mob, “This sort of religious violence is a stain on the reputation of the entire empire.”

“Yeah,” Dawn nodded sagely as she looked around Varro’s body to get a better view of the fight; just as she did so several pairs of soldiers moved in to arrest the combatants and take them away, “What’ll happen to them?”

“Oh,” Varro sighed tiredly, “if its their first offence they’ll probably get away with crucifixion.”

“Crucifixion?” Dawn gulped, “For a first offence?”

“Makes sure they won’t do it again,” Varro pointed out reasonably.

“Totally,” Dawn nodded, you couldn’t really argue with logic like that.

“Are you hungry?” Varro asked out of the blue.

“A little,” Dawn admitted, she’d not touched her breakfast as she’d been feeling sad about losing Buffy and all her friends.

“Then you’re in luck,” Varro pointed to a man who was selling food from the baskets that hung from the back of his donkey, “unless I’m very much mistaken that’s a Fish and Loaf vendor!”

0=0=0=0

As the crowd started to break up once the preacher had finished his sermon, three men and one woman all dressed in dark blue robes broke away from the crowd.

“Well,” a man called Ezrah announced to his friends, “blessed are just about everyone with a vested interest in the status quo, as far as I can see.” 

“Yeah,” the leader of the group, a man called Rafa agreed with a curt nod, “what Yeshua blatantly fails to appreciate is that it's the meek who _are_ the problem!” 

“Yes, yes,” agreed Judith, the only woman in the group, “Absolutely, Rafa. Yes, I see…”

0=0=0=0


	3. Chapter 3

3.

**The Governor’s Palace, Jerusalem.**

Standing on the balcony of the apartment she’d been given, Dawn watched the sun as it set over the city. Jerusalem had been nowhere near as spectacular as she thought it was going to be; in fact it was small, crowded and more than a little smelly. They’d arrived at the governor’s palace a couple of hours after seeing the holy man preach to the crowd on the mountain. Almost immediately Varro had taken Dawn and Naheed to see the governor, a nice man with a speech impediment who insisted on calling Dawn, Pwincess Woshan. Varro had given the governor, Pontius Pilate, a report of what’d happened and Naheed had explained something of what Dawn was doing in Roman territory.

While all this was going on, Dawn found she had little to do or say and spent her time looking around the audience chamber and admiring the mosaics and murals. After having heard everyone’s story, the governor apologised to ‘Pwincess Woshan’ for everything that had happened to her since she’d arrived on Roman territory. In the hope of, in some small way, making amends for these ‘twagic events’ the governor offered Dawn and her party the use of an apartment in the palace for the duration of her stay. Realising that she needed to say something, Dawn smiled politely and graciously accepted the governor’s kind offer. As Naheed and herself had been shown to the apartment, Dawn had smiled to herself and thought she could get used to being this Princess Roshan.

The apartment was nothing like Dawn had expected; she’d imagined that it would be like an apartment from her own time. In fact it was more like a luxury suit in a big swanky hotel. There was a big room with plants, couches, tables and a small pool (which she soon discovered doubled as a bath) the far end of this room opened out onto the balcony that she was at present standing on. There were bedrooms and even toilets that had water running through them continuously to wash away any waste. There were mosaics on the floors and in the ‘bath’ plus murals of brightly coloured birds and animals painted on the walls. Servant girls greeted herself and Naheed at the door and seemed eager to help them in anyway they could; Dawn only had to mention that she’d like a bath and the pool was drained and hot water brought to refill it.

After a long relaxing bath, Dawn changed, again with the help of the servant girls who seemed to think she was incapable of doing even the simplest of tasks without their assistance. Dressed in fresh, clean clothes, Dawn and Naheed had sat out on the balcony and ate a meal, again brought to them by the servant girls. Now standing looking out over the city, Dawn sipped from the glass in her hand and gazed unseeingly into the dusk.

“Why so sad, Kitten?” Naheed asked quietly as she came to stand next to her charge all the time wondering if she could get away with pushing the girl over the balcony and watching her smash her head open on the courtyard below.

“Oh,” Dawn sighed and sipped her wine, “this is all very nice,” Dawn turned to face the woman, “but I miss home.”

“You’re starting to remember?” Naheed asked; she’d not been able to decide whether the Brat Princess had really lost her memory or whether this was some trick, if it was a trick she didn’t know what the girl expected to gain by it.

“Sort of,” Dawn replied realising she might have said the wrong thing; she wasn’t used to the wine and although it was watered down and not very strong it’d still gone to her head a little. “I wish I could remember,” Dawn explained, “I wish I knew why you keep calling me ‘Kitten’,” Dawn saw Naheed’s lip start to tremble as if she was going to burst into tears, “Oh I’m sorry Naheed!” Dawn put down her glass and hugged the woman, “I’m sorry,” Dawn found herself sobbing quietly into the woman’s hair, “I didn’t mean to upset you…”

“There, there, little Kitten,” Naheed patted Dawn on her back as she returned her embrace while at the same time wishing she had a dagger to plunge into her back, “I’m sure you’ll remember soon.” Holding Dawn at arms length she smiled at her, the tears of frustration still shining in her eyes, “We’re both tired after all our adventures, I think we need a good night’s sleep,” Naheed started to lead Dawn towards her bed chamber, “after all you’ll want to look your best for your brave Roman soldier in the morning.”

Not really registering what Naheed had just said, Dawn let herself be led to her bed where the servant girls magically reappeared to help her out of her dress and into bed. Settling down on her pillows, Dawn got herself comfortable and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

0=0=0=0

“Dawn! Dawn! Wake up or you’ll be late for school.”

Blinking open her eyes, Dawn found herself in her own bed in her own little bedroom at home in Sunnydale. The first thing she saw was Buffy opening her curtains before bustling around the room picking up Dawn’s discarded clothes.

“Buffy!” Dawn cried overjoyed to see her sister alive and well, “You’re alive!” The words tumbled from Dawn’s mouth as she watched her sister come over and sit on the edge of her bed, “I had the weirdest dream…”

“Sorry Dawnie,” an infinitely sad expression crossed Buffy’s face as she stroked the hair away from Dawn’s face, “that wasn’t the dream, this is.”

“Oh!” It was Dawn’s turn to look and sound sad, “So-so you really are dead?”

“Yeah, Dawnie,” Buffy nodded her head, “we all died, but you stopped Glory and saved the world; she’s trapped inside Ben forever now.”

“Oh god,” Dawn felt the big lump in her throat almost choke her, “so I’m dead too?” Buffy nodded ‘yes’, “So what I dreamed was some sort of after life?”

“Erm,” Buffy hesitated, “not so much…”

“Huh?” Dawn pushed back her bedding and started climb out of bed so she could sit next to her sister.

“Look,” Buffy reached over and took one of Dawn’s hands in her own, “it’s hard to explain, I don’t really understand it all myself.”

“Please try,” Dawn pleaded, her sister’s hand felt so real in her own it was hard to accept that they were both dead.

“Look,” Buffy looked deeply into Dawn’s eyes, “your life back there is real, you’re alive, you’ll grow old and eventually die, it’s a real life.”

“Okay,” Dawn replied uncertainly, “but why me? Why not the rest…why not you!?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy shrugged, “perhaps whoever’s in charge thought you’d got a raw deal or something.” Buffy smiled sadly, “You only had six months of actual life and look at all the crappy things that happened to you, maybe someone was feeling guilty or something so they gave you a second chance.”

“Oh,” Dawn replied softly, she was more than a little confused, if she was being given a second chance why couldn’t it be with her sister and all her friends?

“But…” Buffy frowned.

“There’s always a big ‘but’, isn’t there?” Dawn raised her eyebrow and waited for Buffy to explain what the ‘but’ was.

“There’s something you have to do,” Buffy continued as she watched Dawn closely, “There’s another version of me there…”

“Huh?” Dawn repeated, “You? What?”

“A younger me,” Buffy explained urgently, “she’s in trouble and you’ve got to help her.”

“A younger you?” Dawn didn’t really understand what her sister was talking about, but she’d try, “Where? How much younger, younger than me?”

“No,” Buffy chuckled and smiled, “she’s like me when I was sixteen or seventeen.”

“Oh,” Dawn said slightly disappointed she’d been hoping she’d be the older sister for a change, “so where do I totally find her.”

“Not here,” Buffy glanced over her shoulder as if she could see someone coming, “you’ve got to go to Pompeii in Italy, she’s called Buffitrix, you’ve got to find her and free her.”

Dawn was getting worried now, her sister was starting to act all screwy as if something terrible was about to happen.

“Look,” Buffy stood and smiled sadly down at Dawn, “I can only help you so much, here,” Buffy bent forward and kissed Dawn on the forehead, “There, I hope that helps make up for the gift I couldn’t give you last time round.” Buffy started to fade away, “And Dawn…”

“Yeah?” Dawn reached for her sister but it was like an impossibly wide gulf had opened up between them, “Buffy?”

“Free her;” Buffy smiled sadly, “you’re the only one that can…your tears will free her.”

Buffy continued to fade and at the same time get further away, as hard as Dawn tried to reach for her, Buffy was always just out of her grasp.

“Buffy!” Dawn cried despairingly as her sister was taken form her for the second time.

“Live for me Dawn,” Buffy called as if from very far away and just before she vanished, forever.

0=0=0=0

“Kitten?” Naheed’s voice penetrated Dawn’s sleep numbed mind, “Kitten, honey, time to get up.”

“But,” Dawn pushed herself up off her pillows, to her it felt like she’d only just gone to sleep, “I’ve…”

Blinking the sleep from her eyes, Dawn saw that it was in fact morning, she’d slept the night through, but now she knew what she had to do; she had to save her sister. Looking at the woman who sat on her bed, Dawn suddenly knew who she was. Memories seemed to have been overlaid on her own and now she could remember two childhoods; one for Dawn Summers the other for Princess Roshan and she could at last remember why Naheed called her Kitten.

“Nana!” Dawn cried as she threw her arms around Naheed’s neck, “I remember!” Dawn cried happily, “I remember how I used to curl up in your lap when I was really little and go to sleep, and you said I was just like a little kitten!”

“I knew,” Naheed forced a smile and pretended to be happy, “I knew you’d come back to me…”

0=0=0=0

After a tearful reunion and a slightly soggy breakfast, Naheed, or Nana as Roshan and now Dawn called her, insisted that Dawn get dressed.

“You don’t want to be late for your brave soldier,” Naheed told Dawn.

“Varro!?” Dawn looked at her friend in shock, “He’s coming here?” Dawn looked around in panic, “But I’m a mess, I’ve got cry-baby eyes and my hair’s a mess and I’ve nothing to wear and…”

“Hush!” Naheed commanded lifting her hand in a ‘halt’ gesture, “Stop all this caterwauling,” she smiled indulgently, “he won’t be here until later, there’s plenty of time to make you look like a proper princess…”

0=0=0=0

What Dawn thought a proper Princess should look like was completely different to what Naheed thought a proper princess should look like; much to Dawn’s relief. For a start no crowns were involved, Dawn had half expected to be put into heavy uncomfortable clothes. However, it seemed that the Hayasans were a practical people who kept ‘uncomfortable’ clothes for more formal occasions. The clothing thought suitable for a young princess to go out with her young man on a first date were much more practical.

After a great deal of fussing by Naheed and the servant girls, Dawn found herself wearing a long full skirt that went down to her ankles, a sort of shirt-tunic top with an open neck, gathered at the waist by a finely tooled leather belt and fastened with a silver buckle. The entire outfit was in a deep blue with lots of colourful embroidery on the cuffs of the long sleeved shirt, around the neck and hem; in fact almost anywhere the seamstress had thought it looked good. On her feet Dawn wore sensible sandals that were like a lighter version of the ones she’d see the Roman soldiers wearing the day before. Once she had Dawn dressed to her satisfaction, Naheed accessorised the young princess’s outfit by adding a heavy necklace and several bracelets plus three or four expensive looking rings. It was only after Naheed had put the jewellery on her that Dawn realised it was all real gold and the gems weren’t fakes.

“I can’t wear these!” Dawn had complained, “What if I lose them?”

“Then we’ll have to buy new,” Nana informed her calmly, all the while thinking that the Roman’s paid the Traitor Queen enough, she could afford them easily.

“Oh, yeah right,” Dawn replied disbelievingly, “we can totally just do that, right?”

“Of course,” Naheed replied as she pulled Dawn’s hair back into a simple ponytail, her hand lingering on her neck as she imagined squeezing the life out of the girl, “your mother sent letters of credit ahead of us; we don’t have to worry about money.”

“Oh cool,” Dawn nodded her head slowly as it started to sink in just how rich she must be; her dreams of worldly riches were elbowed to one side as another thought presented itself for her attention. “Erm, Nana…”

“Yes, Kitten,” Nana was just putting the finishing touches to Dawn’s hair.

“…how do you know that Varro’s going to come and take me out?” Dawn had stated to think that this was all too good to be true and something was bound to happen to spoil everything.

“I wouldn’t be a very good governess if I didn’t know about simple things like men,” Nana laughed, “now would I?”

“What?” Dawn turned and frowned at her companion, “You mean you, like, totally arranged all this?”

“Of course,” Naheed nodded as she stood back to admire her charge and imagine her screaming in agony as she was tortured to death, “left to his own devices he’d still be moping around his barracks or whatever dreaming about you. So I asked the governor to assign him to look after you and show you the city.”

“But…” Dawn was more than a little stunned, this sort thing didn’t happen to her, “When did you…?”

“After you’d gone to bed,” Naheed explained; she’d gone to see the Roman governor and arranged to have Varro assigned to the Princess. 

Next she’d gone to the palace stables and made contact with her brother’s agents, they were to help her insure that the stupid little princess never got back to Hayasa alive and that the Roman’s would get the blame for her death. Dreams of the Princess’ bloody and hopefully painful demise went through Naheed’s mind before she was interrupted by one of the servant girls.

“Tribune Acacius Varro to see the Princess, Domina,” the girl announced.

“Show him onto the balcony and tell him the Princess will be there presently,” Naheed ordered; the girl turned and left the room leaving Dawn and Naheed alone again. “Stand up, let me look at you properly,” Naheed ginned at Dawn. “Good,” Naheed’s grin turned to a broad smile as she saw Dawn covered in blood in her minds eye, “Now have fun and be a good girl,” Naheed started to usher Dawn towards the door of the room, “It’s up to you but if I were you I wouldn’t let him between your thighs until you’re properly betrothed…” 

“WHAT!?” Dawn squeaked not really believing what she’d just been told, “I-I…” her voice faded away to nothing as she fully realised what her ‘responsible adult’ was suggesting.

“I know, I know,” Naheed sighed, “your mother,” whore that she was, “wanted you to marry someone rich and important, but your mother isn’t here and I am, I’d rather see you happy that rich and powerful any day.”

If the truth was told Naheed would rather see the princess choking on her own vomit than happy, but she kept these thoughts to herself; Dawn thought she’d rather like to try for happy, rich and powerful.

“I can see you like Varro,” Naheed explained as she opened the door out onto the main room, “and he likes you, but being a foolish man he doesn’t realise it yet.” Putting her hand in the small of Dawn’s back Naheed propelled her across the floor towards her ‘date’, “Now,” whispered Naheed into Dawn’s ear as they walked towards where Varro stood, “doesn’t he look handsome and virile?”

Dawn made a small, incoherent squeaking sound in her throat that might have been mistaken for a ‘yes’.

0=0=0=0

**Jerusalem.**

Still stunned by Naheed’s suggestion that she wasn’t that worried whether Dawn had sex with her boyfriend on their first date, she’d kept very quiet as Varro had led her out of the palace and onto the streets of Jerusalem. He’d tried to make polite conversation but her almost complete silence, broken only by monosyllabic replies to his questions, seemed to be putting him off. Realising that she was being impolite and if she didn’t say something soon she was going to ruin everything, Dawn started to babble incessantly. This she soon realised was just as bad as not talking at all. Looking up into Varro’s face she could see he thought she was a complete ditz.

“Sorry,” Dawn said eventually, “you probably think I’m totally insane or something.”

“The thought had never entered my mind, Princess,” Varro replied stiffly, obviously wishing he was almost anywhere else than with the weird foreign princess.

“I wish you’d call me by my name,” Dawn sulked thinking she’d screwed up again and all she had to look forward to was a life as an old, mad woman with cats.

“I couldn’t do that,” Varro explained, “it wouldn’t be proper, don’t-cha-know?”

“Spare a talent for an ex-leper!” A very healthy looking man dressed in a loincloth thrust a begging bowl under Dawn’s noise before she could ask Varro what he’d meant.

“Be gone!” Varro ordered as he interposed himself between Dawn and the beggar.

“Ex-leper?” Dawn asked as she stepped around Varro and looked at the man.

To Dawn the man looked healthier that most of the people she’d seen so far on her outing with Varro. Casting her eyes over the man she couldn’t see any sign that he was or had ever suffered from leprosy. In fact from the way he danced around her performing a strange sort of jig, Dawn guessed he’d never suffered from any form of debilitating disease.

“Be gone,” Varro repeated, as his hand moved towards the sword on his hip, “unless you want to feel the edge of my sword.”

“Hold on,” Dawn placed her hand on Varro’s sword arm and suddenly felt all weak kneed at the touch of his skin, “wait a moment,” she said trying to collect her thoughts and turning back to the ex-leper, “okay,” she paused, “I’ll bite, ex-leper?”

“That’s right, madam,” the ex-leper danced around Dawn while keeping a wary eye on Varro’s sword arm, “sixteen years behind the bell and proud of it!”

“Well,” Dawn asked slowly, “what happened?”

“I was cured, madam,” the beggar replied mater-of-factly.

“Cured?” Dawn gasped, “How?”

“A bloody miracle, madam,” the ex-leper danced away from Varro while at the same time keeping his begging bowl within reach of Dawn’s purse, “God bless you, Madam.”

“Who cured you?” Asked Dawn fascinated by the beggar’s tall story.

“Yeshua the messiah did, madam,” replied the beggar brightly, “I was hoping along,” explained the ex-leper, “mindin’ me own business. All of a sudden up he comes and cures me.” The ex-leper slapped himself on the forehead with the palm of his hand, “One minute I’m a leper with a trade, next minute me livelihoods’ gone, with not so much as a by-your-leave!” The ex-leper continued his little jig around Dawn, “You’re cured mate!” the ex-leper complained, “Bloody do-gooders!”

“Well,” Dawn smiled to cover her confusion, “why didn’t you tell him you totally want to be a leper again?”

“Oh, yes I could do that I suppose, madam,” the ex-leper considered Dawn’s suggestion, “I was goin’ to ask him to make me a bit lame in one leg during the week. You know, something beggable but not leprosy which, I have to admit, is a bit of a pain in the arse, if you’ll excuse my Greek, madam.”

“Come away, Princess,” Varro whispered quietly in Dawn’s ear, “we’re attracting a crowd.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dawn giggled as she patted Varro’s arm; she turned back to the beggar, “here,” she opened the purse that was tied to her belt and pulled out a coin and put it in the beggar’s bowl, “that’s for the funny story.”

“Thank-you,” the ex-leper called after Dawn as she and Varro walked away, “Thank-you madam!” The beggar took the coin from his bowl to examine it, he called after Dawn, “A bleedin’ half-denarius for me whole bloody life story?” 

“There’s no pleasing some people!” Dawn called back.

“That’s just what Yeshua said, madam,” the ex-leper replied sadly.

0=0=0=0


	4. Chapter 4

4.

**Temple Market.**

Not knowing quite when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, Dawn had taken to holding Varro’s hand. At first he’d seemed to be a little self-conscious about it but after a few minutes he started to relax. Not being totally blind, Dawn noticed that they were getting more than their fair share of dirty looks from the locals, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care because she was holding hands with the tallest, most handsome man in the city. What was more he treated her like the woman she always knew she was and not the child her sister had always treated her like. They were just moving away from the little jewellery stall where Varro had bought her a pretty little charm bracelet. It was nothing really, not even gold or silver, in fact it was probably bronze, but it was pretty and more importantly Varro had bought it for her and she’d treasure it for the rest of her life. 

Hearing a commotion Dawn looked around to see a crowd start to form on a clear piece of ground over by the temple wall and away from the market. The excited looking people in the crowd appeared to be waiting for some event to begin.

“What’s going on over there?” Dawn pointed to the crowd.

“Oh,” Varro hesitated before saying anything, “just some local religious festival I expect.”

“Can we like go and watch?” Dawn turned and smiled hopefully up into Varro’s face.

“I suppose,” Varro agreed reluctantly, “but you must promises to stay quiet and not get noticed.”

“Cool,” Dawn grinned excitedly, “come on,” she started to pull Varro towards the crowd by the hand, “I want to get a good spot so I can see.”

0=0=0=0

“Do you like the games or the circus?” Varro asked as he and Dawn made their way to the edge of the crowd.

He’d realised that this was a stoning that they were heading towards, and if the little Princess liked stonings she’d probably love both the games and the circus.

“What with clowns and animals?” Dawn asked uncertainly and with a certain amount of disappointment; obviously she must have been wrong about Varro treating her like a grown-up. If he was offering to take her to the circus, he must think she was still a kid.

“Oh yes,” Varro laughed, “there’s clowns and animals and all sorts of other things,” he explained, “I like to go if I’m in the city.”

“Okay,” Dawn replied slowly it couldn’t be that childish if Varro liked to go; also hadn’t it said in one of her teen magazines that a good girlfriend took an interest in what her boyfriend liked to do? “That sounds cool, when can we go?”

“There’s going to be a special games for the holiday in a couple of weeks time,” Varro explained as he cleared the way for Dawn through the crowd, “Or we could just go and see what’s happening tomorrow, if you like.”

Games, thought Dawn, circuses? She shrugged her shoulders, obviously there must be some sort of sporting event being held at the same time as the circus. Whatever, it might be fun and she’d get to spend more time with Varro. 

“Yeah,” Dawn agreed giving Varro one of her most enthusiastic smiles, “lets.”

Just then Dawn found they were standing off to one side of the crowd. In front of her was a large open area bounded on two sides by the tall blank walls of what Varro had told her was a local temple. The ground was covered in fist sized pieces of stone which Dawn thought was a little strange, she’d seen nothing like it anywhere else. There was a crowd of maybe fifty or sixty people, mostly women wearing false beards standing in an excited huddle clutching more stones in their hands.

Being a little puzzled Dawn was about to ask Varro to explain what was going on when a man, who just had to be a priest, walked into the open area and stood before the crowd. The priest had a curly black beard and was dressed in long white robes. He wore a silly hat on his head and clutched a scroll in his left hand. Ah, thought Dawn, this must be the man in charge, she left off asking Varro (she didn’t want him to think she was stupid by asking too many questions) and waited for the priest to start the ceremony.

As the priest stepped up onto a large, flat, stone so he could see over the top of the crowd, Dawn turned to her left to see two men with swords drag another man in chains to the centre of the open area. Walking a few paces behind the three men were two bored looking Roman soldiers. They didn’t follow the prisoner and his guards into the cleared area, instead they stood on the edge of the crowd and watched them warily. Obviously, Dawn thought, they were there to keep order. Once everyone was in place, the priest unrolled his scroll and started to speak.

“Matthias son of Deuteronomy of Gath…” the priest spoke loudly over the excited chattering of the crowd.

“Do I say ‘yes’?” The prisoner asked one of his guards who nodded; the prisoner turned to the priest and said, “Yes.”

“…you have been found guilty by the elders of the town…” the priest continued.

“Is this some sort of trial?” Dawn asked Varro in a whisper.

“No,” Varro bent down so he could speak without being overheard by the crowd, “the trials’ already happened.”

“…of uttering the name of our Lord…” the priest went on in his loud, clear voice as the crowd looked on eagerly.

“Hey this ‘lord’ guy sounds like a real jerk if you can’t, like totally say his name,” Dawn whispered with a slight giggle.

“Shhh!” Varro whispered back warningly.

“…and so as a BLASPHEMER,” the priest turned and pointed his finger accusingly at the prisoner and the crowd made a shocked ‘OOOOH!’ noise, “you are to be stoned to death.”

“What?” Dawn couldn’t help saying out loud, noticing the angry looks she was receiving from the crowd she dropped her voice and turned to Varro, “You can’t kill people for blasphemy!”

“I know,” Varro agreed, “stoning’s barbaric if he’d been tried under Roman law he’d just have been condemned to the arena, much more civilised.”

“Yeah,” Dawn nodded her head, after all having to work at this arena place didn’t sound so bad, nowhere near as bad as being stoned.

“Look,” cried the prisoner, “I’d had a lovely supper and all I said to my wife was; That piece of fish was good enough for Jehovah!”

The crowd cried out in outrage at the word ‘Jehovah’ and the priest pointed a finger that trembled with rage at the condemned man.

“BLASPHEMY! There he’s said it again!” screamed the priest, “Did you hear him?” yelled the priest whipping up the crowd even more than they were already. “By virtue,” the priest continued over the high pitched screams of the bearded women, “of the authority vested in me…”

Someone in the crowd threw a rock that arched through the air and hit the prisoner a glancing blow on the side of the head.

“OW!” Cried the prisoner as he staggered back a couple of steps, “Leave off, we’ve not started yet!”

“Come on!” the priest rolled up his scroll and placed his hands on his hips, “Who threw that?”

Dawn looked on in shocked amazement as the bearded woman, who’d throw the first stone, was forced to stand at the back of the crowd.

“There’s always one isn’t there?” The priest said wearily, he opened his scroll again and continued to read, “Now where were we…”

“I don’t think it ought to be blasphemy,” said the prisoner, “just saying ‘Jehovah’!”

“Neither do I!” Dawn said loudly as she stepped forward to confront the priest and the crowd.

0=0=0=0

**Temple Market, several minutes later…**

“Get behind me!” Varro called urgently to Dawn as stones started to rattle off the shield he was holding. 

One of the auxiliaries who were supposed to be keeping order had already been killed; a great pool of blood surrounded his head as he lay on the stony ground. The other soldier was nowhere to be seen, Dawn didn’t know whether he was lying dead somewhere or if he’d run off. What she did know, however, was that this was all her fault. No sooner had she agreed with the prisoner that just saying ‘Jehovah’ wasn’t a good enough reason to be accused of blasphemy and killed, than the stones had started to whistle through the air.

The prisoner had quickly succumbed to the barrage of rocks sent in his direction, once he was down the mob turned their full attention on the Roman and his impudent female companion. Snatching up the fallen soldier’s shield, Varro used it to protect both himself and Dawn as the crowd pressed closer and closer as he backed towards one of the alleyways leading off the square. At first Dawn wondered why they didn’t just turn around and run for their lives. One look at the mob convinced her that if they tried to run from the square the rioters would be on them in seconds. Their best hope lay in getting off the square and losing the mob in the jumble of narrow alleyways behind the temple.

A screaming woman wearing a false, black beard; ran up to Varro and grabbed hold of his shield before trying to wrestle it out of his grasp. Drawing his sword, Varro reached around the edge of the shield and stabbed the woman in the chest. Coughing blood the woman let go of the shield and slumped to the ground. Although she’d failed to pull the shield from Varro’s hand she had managed to delay Dawn and her protector’s retreat long enough for the crowd to move in and start to surround them.

Without really realising what she was doing, Dawn reached out to Varro and took his knife from its scabbard on his belt. It was a heavy straight bladed weapon about twelve inches long. Although the hilt was a little large in her hand, Dawn seemed to know instinctively how to use it; more of the real Princess Roshan’s memories she wondered? No sooner had she got the knife in her hand than Dawn was confronted by a crazed woman who lifted the stone in her hand above her head in preparation for beating out Dawn’s brains. Without thinking, she took a half step towards the woman and thrust the dagger into her belly.

Blood spilt over Dawn’s hand as she pulled the knife free and stepped back under the protection of Varro’s shield. Stones continued to hit the shield with hollow sounding thumps as the rioters closed in and the rain of rocks got heavier. A man with a club stepped forward to challenge Varro who immediately thrust his sword into his stomach. With an efficiency born of hours spent on the practice field, Varro pulled his blade from the man’s body and continued his dogged retreat. Sheltering behind Varro, Dawn could see the crowd lap around them; she glanced over her shoulder and saw that they were a mere few yards from the mouth of a narrow alley which was barely wide enough for two people to pass each other by. Looking back at the crowd she realised they’d never make it. Unless something happened to save them they were as good as dead.

Squealing with fear and pain as a stone struck her; Dawn saw several men and women try to close with Varro. Quickly he cut his opponents down or sent them staggering away clutching their bloody wounds. Turning to stab a particularly stubborn woman, whose false red beard hung crookedly from her face, Varro lowered his shield and let a stone hit him on the side of his head knocking his helmet off and making him stagger. Rushing forward, Dawn grabbed her boyfriend around the waist to steady him as several more stones flew in. One hit Dawn on the shoulder making her cry out in pain while another hit Varro on the back of his head. His sword fell from his numbed hand and the shield dropped uselessly to his side, he fell to his knees as Dawn tried in vain to pull him back to his feet.

Not knowing what else to do, Dawn picked up Varro’s sword as more stones bounced off the ground or thumped into her body. Noticing a sudden decrease in the number of missiles being thrown at them, Dawn glanced around to see several rioters heading towards them, their faces distorted with rage. Standing with Varro’s sword in one hand and his knife in the other, Dawn determined to sell her life dearly just like her sister would have done; as she watched the rioters close with her Dawn suddenly realised too late just how similar her sister and herself had been.

“I’m sorry,” she cried as the rioters got closer, “I’m so sorry…”

Lifting the sword she swung it at the closest rioter, it was heavy in her hand and for all the times she’d watched her sister practice she didn’t really know what she was doing. However, Princess Roshan obviously did, the sword bit into the flesh of the man’s arm causing him to scream and fall back as he clutched at his wound with his uninjured hand. Almost before she realised what she was doing Dawn had stabbed a woman, her knife entering the woman’s body just above the pubis, she ripped upwards with the knife opening the woman’s stomach and letting her intestines spill out onto the ground in a rush of hot blood.

Now Dawn found herself like a passenger in her own head, she watched through eyes that didn’t feel like her own as ‘she’ cut and stabbed at her attackers. This she thought must be all the work of the real Princess Roshan. Somehow something of the girl had survived and was now working to save both of them. A recent memory bubbled to the surface of Dawn’s mind as the Princess part of her fought to keep the angry rioters away from herself and Varro. In her dream Buffy had kissed her on the forehead and said something about a gift. When she’d woken up she could remember things from the Princess’ past. Perhaps this ‘gift’ also let the Princess out at times of stress when there were things that Dawn couldn’t handle.

Momentarily free of her attackers, Dawn felt her arms grow weary the sword was too heavy for her and there were too many opponents. Hissing and spiting her rage, she lashed out again and again at the little group of rioters who’d surround her. Blood flew in bright crimson fans as sword and dagger sliced into flesh. However, she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer very soon the crowd would overwhelm her. Standing over the man she loved, Dawn fought on as she gasped for breath. A youth came towards her raising a stone in his hand ready to dash out her brains. Burying her blade up to the hilt in his stomach, Dawn felt his hot blood ooze over her hand as he fell against her dragging her to the ground.

Free of the harpy with the sword and knife the mob moved in to finish off the Roman and his foreign whore. Born down by the weight of stinking, heaving bodies, Dawn scratched, kicked and even bit her assailants as they pounded on her with sticks and fists. So this was it, she thought with astounding clarity, as yet another fist hit her on the side of the head. She tasted blood in her mouth as her attempts at defending herself and Varro got weaker and weaker. Buffy had been wrong, Dawn would never free her sister, it was all going to end here in this dusty, dirty square and it was all her fault.

0=0=0=0

Drawing his sword captain Sher led his men towards the point he’d last seen the Princess. He’d been following her and the Roman since they’d left the Governor’s palace just in case something like this happened. The Judeans were a volatile people who would riot at the slightest perceived insult, which was exactly what had happened here. Unfortunately because he’d had to keep out of sight of the princess so she wouldn’t know she was being followed, he’d had to keep himself and his men back and too far away to intervene as soon as the trouble had started. Now the riot was in full swing he had no such worries.

Reaching the edge of the mob that surround the princess and her Roman, Sher swung his sword at the closest rioter and watched in satisfaction as his long, curved, blade lopped off a man’s arm. Stepping forward a pace into the space left by the fallen rioter, Sher rammed his sword into the belly of another opponent and watched her fall groaning to the cobbles. By now the two guards he’d brought with him had joined the fight and they were making good progress towards where the princess and her Roman lay.

It was more or less at this point that the soldier who’d run off earlier had returned with the ready reaction force from the garrison. The men from the garrison, which was only a few moments run away from the square, locked shields and started to work their way into the square causing the greater part of the rioters to turn and face them. Pushing his way through the confused and angry crowd Sher and his men made their way over to where the Princess and the Roman lay in danger of being torn apart by the crowd. Slashing at the crowd with his sword, Sher forced the mob back; he grabbed hold of Dawn’s arm and pulled her to her feet. Her eyes were wild with hate and anger, Dawn raised the bloody dagger in her hand and was just about to plunge it into Sher’s chest when her eyes grew wider still with surprise.

“Captain Sher!?” Dawn gasped with relief as she slowly lowered the knife.

“Madam!” Sher replied as he directed the men with him to help the Roman officer, “Come, we must get to safety.”

Dawn’s mouth moved but no sound came out.

“Can you walk?” Sher demanded his eyes going back to the crowd as he tried to judge just how soon the army would get to them; Dawn nodded her head, “Yes!”

Glancing to where his two men had pulled the injured Roman to his feet, Sher placed his left arm around his princess’ waist to support her.

“Come,” he pointed with his sword, “we must get back to the palace.”

0=0=0=0


	5. Chapter 5

5.

**Temple Market.**

Rocks rattled off the faces of the Auxiliary’s shields as Centurion Leonidas looked cautiously over the heads of his men towards the mob. He didn’t know what had started this riot but he knew what was going to finish it.

“SWORDS!” He yelled at the top of his voice momentarily drowning out the shouts of the rioters.

There was a multitude of long, smooth, *Shing* sounds as gladius blades were pulled from their scabbards.

“PREPARE TO ADVANCE!” Leonidas called as swords were thrust towards the mob over the tops of shields. “AT THE HALF STEP…ADVANCE!” 

At a blast from his whistle the wall of Roman shields started to advance pushing the rioters back. Any rioter who tried to stand and hold back the wall of muscle and armour was quickly dispatched by efficient sword thrusts and left to bleed to death on the ground. Within five minutes the only rioters left in Temple Market were dead ones, the mob and any innocent bystanders having fled for their lives.

0=0=0=0

**The Governor’s Palace.**

Stumbling through the gate of the palace’s protective wall captain Sher called urgently for a surgeon. Roman soldiers appeared as if by magic and took Varro from the arms of the two guards. At this point Dawn had protested that she wanted to go with the brave man who’d fought desperately to save her life, but Captain Sher had held her back saying she needed to look after her own ills.

Reluctantly Dawn allowed herself to be hustled through the palace and up to her apartment. No sooner had they entered the big room than Naheed was on them demanding to know what had happened and how Captain Sher could have let the princess get into so much danger. Guiding Dawn over to a couch by the balcony, Naheed called to the servant girls to fetch clean water and bandages.

Cursing her luck, Naheed started to dress the princess’ injuries, not that they amounted to more than bruises and a few cuts; she’d had worse herself from falling from a horse. However appearances had to be maintained, she’d have to act compassionately least suspicion fell on her before she’d had a chance to complete her mission. 

Her brother was the leader of a faction at court that believed that Hayasa should not ally itself with Rome. He believed that their country would be better served by putting itself under the protection of Parthia. However the Queen had her heart set on an alliance with Rome which was why she’d sent her second daughter to find a rich and influential husband, Naheed had been sent to prevent this from happening…by any means she thought necessary.

Having been the princess’ governess since the girl was four, Naheed was in a unique position to carry out her brother’s wishes. The Princess trusted her implicitly; however over the last two or three years, Naheed had grown to hate the spoilt, slutty little bitch that called herself a princess. The girl had started to change on or around her twelfth birthday and as she grew older, Naheed’s dislike of her had grown. But the noble woman had been able to keep her feelings secret knowing that at some point her access to the princess might prove useful to her family as indeed it had. The only thing that caused Naheed any guilt about what she was planning to do to the princess was that the girl still appeared to love her. Well, Naheed thought as she wrapped a bandage around the princess’ forehead, that would only make her victory the sweeter when the princess finally realised she’d been betrayed.

While the princess had been out with her prospective lover, Naheed had contacted some Judean terrorists in the hopes of getting them to assassinate the princess while she was in the care of the Roman officer, Tribune Varro. Another part of her brother’s clever plan was that the Romans must be made to look as if they were to blame for the princess’ death. Naheed actually hoped that Roshan would fall for the Roman and marry him, this would prevent her from actually having to have the girl murdered. Anyone with half a brain could see that Varro was just a no account soldier with no money and no prospects. If Roshan were to marry him, her mother’s plans would be brought to naught and Naheed could leave the girl to being the wife of a common soldier.

0=0=0=0

**Temple Market.**

Walking slowly through the wreckage of the market place, something red caught Centurion Leonidas’ eye. Walking over to the object he pulled the body of a rioter aside and picked up an officer’s helmet. Examining it for a moment he saw the blood smeared on the cheek guard and the dent in the crown, probably made by a stone.

“Cack!” He cursed under his breath before turning and calling over one of his junior officers, “Optio Paulus!” The man ran over and stood at attention in front of the Centurion, “Have we found the body of a Roman officer?” he held up the discarded helmet.

“No, Centurion,” replied the optio, “No Romans or Greeks amongst the dead or wounded, sir.”

“Gods below!” Leonidas cursed vehemently, “You know what this means?”

“Erm…” the optio shook his head slowly, he didn’t know what this meant, but he felt sure the centurion was going to tell him and it probably wasn’t anything good, “…no, sir.”

“This means,” Leonidas shook the blooded helmet under the optio’s nose, “this means that these bastards have either killed or captured a Roman officer and that,” Leonidas sighed heavily, “means that the crap is really going to hit the…the…erm,” the Centurion was momentarily lost for words, “you know,” he raised an eyebrow hopefully at the optio, “some sort of spinning thing.”

“A wheel, perhaps?” The optio suggested.

“Yeah,” agreed the centurion, “the shit is really going to hit the wheel!”

0=0=0=0

**Headquarters of The People’s Front for Judea.**

Hidden away in the cellar deep under the King Herod Memorial Home for Waifs and Orphans, the core members of the People’s Front for Judea, where conducting a deep and meaningful discussion about their political aims and doctrine.

“I do feel, Rafa,” began Judith the only woman in the group, “that any Anti-Imperialist group such as ours must reflect the massive divergence of interests within its power-base.”

“Agreed,” Rafa, the chairman, founder and de facto leader of the organisation nodded his head; turning to the man on his left he raised an eyebrow inviting him to speak, “Ezrah?” 

“Yeah,” Ezrah nodded his head sagely in agreement with what Judith had just said, “I think Judith's point of view is very valid, provided the Movement never forgets that it is the inalienable right of every man…”

“Or woman,” interrupted Shem who was sitting next to Judith. 

“Or woman...” agreed Ezrah, “to rid himself…”

“Or herself,” Shem pointed out. 

“Or herself,” nodded Ezrah.

“Agreed,” Rafa said for no other reason than he was starting to feel left out of the conversation.

“Thank you, brother,” Ezrah gestured to Rafa. 

“Or sister,” Shem corrected. 

“Or sister…” Ezrah ground to a halt as he tried to remember what he’d been saying only moments before, “Where was I?” 

“I think you'd finished,” Rafa suggested hopefully. 

“Oh, right,” Ezrah stopped talking as he tried to work out where his point had disappeared to.

Just as Rafa was about to call and end to the meeting, the cellar door burst open and in ran Tahmid, a party activist.

“Have you heard the news from Temple Market?” Gasped Tahmid after his long run from the market square where the riot had taken place.

“No, brother,” Rafa eyed Tahmid with displeasure, he’d been hoping to wrap up the meeting and go down to the wine shop for a cup or two before he had to get home to his wife; the money given to him by the foreign noble woman was starting to burn a hole in his purse.

“Or sister,” put in Shem.

“Oh, do shut up, Shem,” Rafa sighed tiredly before turning his attention back to Tahmid, “alright what’s happened now?”

“There was going to be a perfectly legal stoning of a blasphemer,” Tahmid explained as he slowly regained his breath. “But before the priest could give the signal to start, some Roman officer and his woman intervened claiming that saying Je…” Tahmid managed to stop himself from becoming a victim of the mob and corrected himself, “…the Lords name shouldn’t be blasphemy!”

“Disgusting!” Exclaimed Judith.

“What happened next, brother?” Rafa asked as he gave Shem a warning look before he could say anything about ‘sisters’.

“Then, when the people turned their righteous anger on this Roman oppressor and this Whore of Babylon,” Tahmid explained with growing anger, “The Romans turned their running dog, lick spittle, Greek mercenaries loose on the people,” Tahmid’s body shook with impotent rage as he continued his story.

“What happened next, sibling?” Shem asked as he gave Rafa a superior look.

“As you can imagine, the people rose up in righteous anger and threw themselves on the enemies of freedom and religious orthodoxy,” Tahmid cried excitedly.

“So,” Rafa shook his head in sorrow, “the Imperialist oppressors won.”

“Yeah,” Tahmid shrugged defeated, “that’s about it.”

“I expect the square ran red with the blood of martyrs?” Ezrah asked, he’d heard this sort of thing before.

“What happened to the Roman officer and his whore,” Judith glanced around at her comrades, “who, we must remember, is probably just as oppressed as we are, brothers. Forced, no doubt, to pander to the Roman’s vile and perverted lusts.”

“Or…”

“Shem!” Rafa warned before turning back to Judith, “Carry on sister.”

“Do you know who they were and where they went?” Judith asked earnestly.

“No,” Tahmid shook his head, “but…”

“But?” Chorused the other members of the Popular Front.

“They went off with some other foreign looking fellows,” Tahmid explained.

“Probably more agent-provocateurs,” Ezrah muttered darkly. 

“Brothers,” Rafa looked around at his comrades before adding, “and sisters, I think I know what sister Judith is getting at.”

“You do?” Judith frowned; even she wasn’t sure what she was getting at.

“I do,” Rafa stood and struck a heroic pose, “we must avenge this bloody massacre,” he announced, “We must hunt down this Roman oppressor, his whore and these spies and smite them like the wrath of god!” Rafa paused for a moment, “Or failing that stab ‘em in a dark alley late one night.”

“All those in favour,” called Ezrah, “say ‘aye’!”

“AYE!” Cried the inner circle of the Popular Front and the motion was passed with only one abstention.

0=0=0=0

**The Garrison Hospital.**

Having fought off Naheed’s attentions, Dawn had demanded to be allowed to go to see how Varro was fairing. Seemingly reluctant to let Dawn out of her sight, Naheed had agreed only after she’d insisted that Captain Sher accompany her. Discovering that Varro was in the hospital at the garrison; Dawn and her escort of six guards under an Under Officer called Ehsan made their way to the garrison through the quiet deserted streets. On reaching the main gate of the fort, Dawn had demanded entry so she could see Tribune Varro. After only a little delay, long enough for the guards on the gate to fetch an officer, Dawn and her escort were allowed into the fort and directed to the hospital.

On seeing Varro lying on a bunk, his skin pale and his head bandaged Dawn burst into tears as she sank down onto the floor by his bed; if only she’d kept her stupid mouth shut none of this would have happened and the man she was growing to love wouldn’t be lying here near death. It felt like Varro had been unconscious for hours and Dawn was extremely worried; what if her foolishness had got her boyfriend killed? Talk about not killing your boyfriend on your first date. 

The doctor had come, an older man in white robes, he’d examined Dawn quickly when he heard that she’d been caught up in the riot and proclaimed her fit; nothing worse than a few cuts, scraps and painful bruises, nothing to worry about he told her. He added that she might like to make an offering to one of the goddesses; nothing fancy a white rabbit or a nice fruit basket would be acceptable.

He’d spent much longer with Varro, after examining him he announced that the blow to Varro’s head had made his brain swell. He was going to have to drill into Varro’s skull to release the pressure. At first Dawn was horrified by the suggestion, drill into someone’s head? That was insane; she’d demanded a second opinion. The doctor had looked at her in that insufferably smug way that doctors have and explained that any other reputable doctor would tell her the same thing. Eventually another Roman officer had stepped in and told the doctor to go ahead. When Dawn had tried to interfere he’d told her firmly that as the senior officer present and as none of Varro’s relatives were available it was his responsibility. 

On the other hand, Dawn had pointed out that she was a princess which outranked an officer whoever he might be any day and what was more Varro was her boyfriend. In answer to this undeniable logic, the officer told the doctor to get on with his work and then dragged Dawn kicking and screaming from the room.

“So,” the officer, a Centurion called Leonidas, asked after he’d got Dawn from the room and back out into the courtyard, “how long have you and the Roman been an item?”

At first Dawn didn’t answer, she just stood there with her arms crossed over her chest, sulking like the teenage princess everyone thought she was. Thinking she must be getting more comfortable with her part, Dawn couldn’t help but smile. 

“Sorry,” Dawn said eventually, somewhere at the back of her mind, she thought she could hear the real Princess demanding that she have this impudent Greek soldier flogged for manhandling her like that; Dawn ignored these thoughts.

“Sorry?” Leonidas quieried.

“For snapping at you and calling you a ‘mere Centurion’,” Dawn explained, “and Varro’s been my boyfriend for exactly one day.”

Leonidas chuckled, “This’ll be a first date he won’t forget, or hopefully he will…”

“Don’t joke about it or…” Dawn was just about to threaten the Centurion with Captain Sher, the commander of her guards, but managed to stuff Princess Roshan back in her box before the words were out of her mouth.

Just then the doctor came out into the courtyard wiping his bloody hands on a piece of rag. Ignoring Dawn he spoke directly to Leonidas telling him that Varro was now in the hands of the gods and he’d either wake up or he wouldn’t. Great bedside manner, Dawn told herself listening in on the conversation. Eventually the doctor looked at the Centurion expectantly and held out his hand for payment.

“I have money,” Dawn stepped forward, her hand going to where her purse should be hanging from her belt, needless to say it wasn’t, “Darn!” Dawn cursed, but then she remembered her jewellery, pulling off a ring set with a big ruby she handed it to the doctor, “Will that cover the bill?”

The doctor took the ring and held it up to the light as he squinted at the stone, satisfied the gem was real he nodded his head before turning away to pack up his tools.

“You really are a Princess aren’t you?” Chuckled Leonidas, he was beginning to like the girl who’d attached herself to the young Tribune; lucky man, he said to himself as he eyed Dawn’s figure, if he survives to be more than a vegetable of course. 

“Looks like,” Dawn shrugged, * _Of course I am!_ * came a voice from the back of Dawn’s mind, she frowned thinking she must have imagined the voice, “can I see him?”

“Don’t see why not,” Leonidas shrugged. 

“Thank-you,” Dawn sighed with relief, “I’ve totally got to look after him.”

* _And maybe suck his cock to make him feel better,_ * giggled the voice in her head.

“You really do love him don’t you?” Leonidas said softly as he walked her over to the door of the hospital, “This isn’t just some school girl crush.”

“No its not,” Dawn admitted firmly, all the while wondering where this strange voice kept coming from, “and yes I do, but I totally don’t know why.”

* _It’s because you want his phallus inside you,_ * laughed the voice.

“AAGH!” Dawn screamed as the words and their meaning came clearly to her mind.

“Everything alright, Princess?” Leonidas asked with a concerned frown on his face.

“Erm…yes,” Dawn lied, completely convinced that she was going insane, “just some cramps.”

“You should eat more salt,” Leonidas suggested as he left her at the door.

0=0=0=0

Walking into the darkness of the hospital entrance Dawn paused as she looked around. Once she’s assured herself that there was no one there to over hear she took a deep breath before speaking.

“Who are you?” Dawn demanded of the voice in her head, “If you’re some sort of demon I’ll…I’ll…” Dawn couldn’t actually think what she’d do; back home she’d have gone to Willow or Giles but here she was on her own.

* _I could ask the same question,_ * the voice replied haughtily, * _and what are you doing in by body?_ *

“Your body?” Dawn replied uncertainly, obviously all the blows to the head she’d received lately were more serious than she’d at first thought.

* _Yes my body!_ * The voice snapped, * _I am the Royal Princess Roshan of Hayasa and I demand you leave my body immediately, demon!_ *

“I’m so not the demon here,” Dawn whispered, “you are, the real princess is dead, she fell as she was running away from the brigands and hit her head on a stone.”

* _I did not!_ * Exclaimed the dead princess.

“Did too!” Dawn snapped back.

* _Didn’t!_ * The princess replied with equal determination.

“Look,” Dawn sighed, “Can we deal with this later? I came here to visit Varro.”

* _Oh!_ * The princess in Dawn’s head seemed to pause as if making up her mind, which was a little weird because as far as Dawn was concerned it was her mind the princess was making up. * _Oh, alright then,_ * the princess conceded, * _but you do anything evil I’ll…_ *

“You’ll do what?” Dawn asked, “You’re totally stuck in my head…”

* _My head,_ * the princess pointed out. 

“Whatever,” Dawn sighed as she walked into the hospital proper and went over to Varro’s bed.

Looking down at Varro, Dawn could feel the tears start to come to her eyes, the young man looked worse now than he had before the doctor had worked on him.

* _You’re crying,_ * the princess sounded confused.

“Oh course I’m crying,” Dawn sniffed as she knelt down beside Varro’s bed, “what do you think I should be doing laughing?” wiping away a tear with her hand Dawn gazed sadly at Varro’s deathly, white face, “If I’d only kept my big mouth shut none of this would have happened.”

* _Oh…_ * the princess went silent for a moment, * _...if you’re crying,_ * she said slowly, * _you can’t be a demon, therefore…_ *

“Like I said I’m not a demon,” Dawn repeated softly as she took Varro’s hand in her own, “do you mind if we talk about this later?”

* _Of course,_ the princess seemed to be retreating to the back of Dawn’s mind, * _I will leave you alone with our lover._ *

0=0=0=0


	6. Chapter 6

6.

**The Governor’s Palace, several days’ later.**

It was nearly a week after the riot now and Dawn had been splitting her time between nursing Varro at the garrison and letting Naheed fuss over her at the palace. A couple of days earlier Varro had woken up and apart from a headache and the hole in his head, he seemed no worse for Dawn almost getting him killed. He wasn’t well enough to go back on duty but he was well enough to be moved to his own quarters in the fort. However, it looked as if he’d make a full recovery. Her own bruises were fading and the cut on her head didn’t need to be bandaged any more and could be hidden by her hair; she only got the occasional twinge of pain now if she did something too energetic.

This morning she was packing a satchel with some books, Varro had asked her if she could get him something to read. Of course since the riot she had to go everywhere with at least two of Captain Sher’s soldiers to guard her. Giving a wry smile she wondered how that was going to work out if she ever got to go out on another date with Varro. A fit of giggles made her pause in her packing; when she thought about it, being caught up in a religious riot and almost killed would be hard to top for a second date. Perhaps she could organise a small apocalypse for their next date, if she could persuade Varro to have anything to do with her once he was up and about.

* _I know how you could persuade Varro to go out with us,_ * Roshan piped up unexpectedly and almost made Dawn drop the book in her hand.

“How’s that?” Dawn found she was genuinely interested in what the girl had to say; she was obviously more experienced in ‘matters of the heart’ than Dawn was.

* _Offer to suck his cock,_ * Roshan explain mater-of-factly.

“Eww! Gross!” Dawn squealed.

* _It’s not ‘gross’, foolish Amer-i-can-girl!_ Roshan had started to refer to Dawn as ‘Foolish Amer-i-can-girl’ a few days previously and seemed pleased that it annoyed Dawn slightly, * _It is perfectly natural, and anyway he’s almost recovered…_ *

“No he’s not,” Dawn butted in, “he’s still really sick.”

* _Pah!_ * Roshan replied dismissively.

“Hey, what do you mean, ‘Pah’?” Dawn sounded defensive although she didn’t mean to.

* _Can’t you see it?_ * Roshan asked sounding truly puzzled.

“See what?” Dawn wanted to know.

* _You really are a foolish Amer-i-can-girl,_ * Dawn could clearly hear the mocking laughter in Roshan’s voice.

“Stop laughing at me!” Dawn demanded, “Tell me what you mean.”

* _Look,_ * Roshan sighed heavily as if she was explaining to a very foolish person, * _Varro hasn’t been really sick for several days, he’s only pretending to be sick so you’ll come and visit him._ *

“Really?” This was something that Dawn had never considered, “Oh!” a small bronze coin dropped in her mind, “that must mean he likes me!”

* _Well, duh!_ * The princess had been picking up on some phrases that Dawn had used in her old life, it was all a little disconcerting. * _So,_ * the princess said slowly, * _why not totally suck his cock and show him that you like him too…you do like him don’t you?_ *

“Of course I do,” Dawn replied without even thinking about it.

* _Well nothing tells a man that you like him better than a good cock sucking,_ * Roshan explained.

“I wouldn’t know how,” Dawn replied as she seriously considered the idea, she really did want Varro to like her.

* _Not a problem,_ * Dawn could feel the princess smile in her head, * _when its time let me take over and you can watch and see how it’s done!_ *

Before Dawn could answer she heard Naheed call for her from the big living room.

“Princess!” 

* _Oh!_ * Roshan said warily, * _I don’t like the sound of that._ *

“Of what?” Dawn asked.

* _Nana only called me ‘Princess’ when I’d done something bad,_ * Roshan explained, * _Have you done anything bad?_ *

“Not that I know of,” Dawn replied uncertainly, “apart from the whole riot things but that was ages ago,” Dawn paused for a moment before asking, “you don’t think she’s still pissed at me for that, do you?”

There was no answer from Roshan.

“Roshan?” Dawn called quietly just before realisation dawned, “Oh, I see,” Dawn placed her fists on her hips, “totally run off and leave me alone when there’s trouble brewing, huh?”

“Coming!” Dawn called back as she closed the buckles on the satchel, picked it up and slung it over her shoulder.

Walking out of her sleeping chamber, Dawn noticed that the big room was empty of servants and guards, only Naheed stood by the couch over by the balcony.

“What’s wrong?” Dawn asked as she walked quickly over to where Naheed was standing, she didn’t like the annoyed look on her governess’ face, it frightened her a little.

Standing on the balcony with a stern look on her face Naheed was really looking forward to what she was going to do. It was a pity she couldn’t arrange to have the little slut whipped instead of just beating her.

“I didn’t want to say anything before,” Naheed said slowly, she had but she’d kept her own counsel, “but now you’re almost recovered, I think it’s about time we had a little talk.”

“Oh,” this had to be about the riot and her part in causing it, Dawn took her satchel from her shoulder and put it on the floor, “this is about the riot, isn’t it?”

“Too right it is!” Exclaimed Naheed, “What do you think you were playing at, my girl?”

“I’m sorry,” Dawn fought to keep any hint of a whine from her voice, “but you shouldn’t be stoned to death just for saying a god’s name, I mean I’ve heard you do it all the time!”

“That’s as maybe,” Naheed pointed out, “but these Jews are an odd lot,” Nana shook her head, “they think they’re special, chosen or something.”

“I can’t help that,” Dawn replied defensively, she knew all about people being ‘chosen’, “it’s still wrong!”

“Right and wrong doesn’t enter into it, this is religion we’re talking about,” Nana pointed out, “and what’s more the Governor isn’t pleased.”

No, Naheed remembered her interview with the silly man, he hadn’t been at all pleased. He kept on about ‘wiots’ and how ‘pwincesses’ should be more careful about what they said. The most frustrating thing about the entire incident was that Naheed had agreed with the man; of course she’d not said as much, she still had to keep up appearances.

“Oh,” Dawn ducked her head and wouldn’t look Naheed in the eye for a moment, “yeah like I’m sorry about that.”

“I’m afraid, ‘sorry’ isn’t good enough,” Nana continued to look sternly at Dawn, “you know one of the Auxiliary soldiers was killed and several more injured, who knows how many of those smelly Jews were killed or hurt…”

“…and Varro,” Dawn added sheepishly.

“And poor Tribune Varro,” Nana agreed, although the death of some lowly Roman Tribune was of no account to her other than it might serve her purpose, “and I thought you liked him too!”

“Sorry,” Dawn said again, she really did feel sorry for what she’d caused to happen, but stoning people for saying a god’s name was so, totally, wrong!

“You could have got killed,” Naheed sniffed as fake tears appeared in her eyes, “then what would I do? How would I tell your mother that you’d got yourself killed in a grubby little street fight.”

For a moment, Naheed imagined telling the Traitor Queen that her brat was dead. To see the look of loss and hopelessness just before her brother’s troops dragged the Roman loving whore outside to be flung from the highest tower in the palace.

“I’m really sorry, Nana,” Dawn repeated as she wondered just how long you got grounded for starting a riot, “I promise not to do it again.”

“Well,” Naheed took a deep breath, “the Governor thinks you should be punished and so do I, maybe then you’ll think before opening your mouth on matters that don’t concern you.”

Here it comes, Dawn thought, she was going to be grounded until she was sixty or something. Dawn’s eyes grew wide as she watched Naheed pick up a long narrow cane from a table by the couch.

“Hey what’s going on?” Dawn asked suspiciously as she took a step away from her governess.

“Be a good girl and bend over the back of the couch here,” Nana pointed to the piece of furniture, she could hardly contain the joy she felt at the prospect of giving the silly little princess a good thrashing, “take your punishment like a proper Princess.”

“But…you can’t hit me I’m a princess!” Dawn didn’t know what else to say, her real mother had never hit her or even raised her hand to her and now she was going to be beaten with a cane!

“Don’t make a fuss, Princess,” Nana sighed, “I’ve sent everyone away there’s just you and me, no one else need know.”

Naheed fought to keep her face straight, and no one would be here to see if she went just a little too far and did the silly little brat some serious damage! When Dawn still didn’t move, a look like thunder crossed Naheed’s face.

“Look if you don’t bend over right this moment,” Naheed pointed the cane at Dawn, “I’ll call Captain Sher and he’ll hold you down.”

“Okay,” Dawn hung her head in shame as she stepped towards the couch.

Having started a riot in which people had been killed, Dawn realised she was getting off lightly with a beating; what had Varro said about first offences, she’d probably get away with crucifixion? Bending over the back of the couch, Dawn felt Naheed lift up the back of her skirt and tuck it into her belt. Gritting her teeth against the expected pain, Dawn wondered just how painful it could be? Hearing the cane swish through the air she soon found out.

“OWW!” Dawn screamed and jumped upright as she rubbed her butt, she gasped, “That hurt!”

“Of course it did dear,” Naheed replied calmly, before adding to herself; if you think that hurt wait until I really get started, to Dawn she said, “it’s supposed to. Now bend over and don’t jump up again, its undignified.”

“Undignified?” Dawn cried as she bent back over the couch again; the cane swished through the air once more and Dawn screamed as it hit home, “AAAAGH!”

After a dozen strokes, Naheed lowered her can and caught her breath. That had been fun, she smiled to herself as she listened to her princess’ moans and sobs of pain. Eventually, after wiping all traces of any smirk off her face Naheed let Dawn stand up. 

“Now let that be a lesson to you,” Naheed told her sobbing charge, “I don’t want to hear about you starting riots ever again.”

“No Nana,” Dawn replied tearfully.

“Now you can stay in your room for the rest of the day,” Naheed placed her hand on Dawn’s shoulder and urged her toward her bed chamber. “I’ll send a message and those books to Varro and tell him you’re indisposed today.”

“Thank-you, Nana,” Dawn sniffed as she walked carefully towards her room.

“I’ll be in,” Naheed called, hating that she had to keep up the pretence of being the princess’ friend, “in a little while to put some salve on your bottom. Until then lie on your front.”

0=0=0=0

* _Foolish Amer-i-can-girl,_ * Princess Roshan’s voice echoed faintly from the dark recesses of Dawn’s mind. * _First you steal my body, then you almost get me killed and now the indignity of being beaten by Nana!_ *

“I did not steal your body,” Dawn sniffed as she lay on her chest on the bed, “I got dumped there.”

* _Huh!_ * The voice gave the impression of folding its arms and turning its back on Dawn, * _We’ll see,*_ it said finally.

0=0=0=0

**A Rooftop near the Garrison.**

Watching the road, Ezrah and Shem saw the guard on the gate of the fort stop and question the messenger before letting him inside.

“Doesn’t look as if she’s coming today, brother,” Ezrah gestured down to the street.

“Or sister,” Shem replied automatically and received a punch on the arm for his slip of the tongue.

“What is it with you and this ‘sister’ thing?” Demanded Ezrah crossly.

“I just think that women have the right…” Shem began but was cut off by Ezrah.

“Oh do shut up about women’s rights, Shem,” Ezrah sighed, “anyone would think you wanted to be one or something,” he laughed, “come on lets try and work out how we’re going to kidnap this Roman’s foreign whore.”

After the riot Rafa had become very insistent about kidnapping the foreign whore who’d started the trouble. It was almost like he’d been paid to do it or something because he suddenly had lots of money for bribes and such like. 

“Well,” Shem glanced at his comrade who’d got just a little too close to the truth when he’d said Shem wanted to be a woman, “its plain to me we’re not going to snatch her off the street.”

“You’re right,” agreed Ezrah, “since the riot she never goes anywhere without at least two of those thugs of hers.”

Dawn’s guards were all big, tough men armed with long curved swords and powerful bows, any attempted ambush would result in a lot of the ambushers being killed.

“There’s at least four centuries in the fort,” Shem pointed out, “so we can’t grab her from there.”

“Far too many for us to fight,” Ezrah pointed out, “once the alarm is raised they’ll have troops out on the streets everywhere.”

“We could try and snatch her from the palace,” Shem suggested quietly.

“What!?” Laughed Ezrah, “Storm the palace and hold her hostage?”

“No,” Shem glanced at his comrade, “I was thinking more about sneaking inside and kidnapping her.”

“Wot?” Ezrah asked slowly, “Dressed up as washer women or something I suppose?”

“Washer women,” Shem replied hopefully, “could be one way, or…”

“You know,” Ezrah’s eyes took on a far away look, “you might have something there.”

“I do?” Shem had visions of himself dressed up as an important Roman lady sailing past the guards and…

“Not dressing up as washer women,” Ezrah pointed out; Shem groaned with disappointment. “But there’s other ways of sneaking into the palace.”

“S’pose,” Shem agreed reluctantly, he still wanted to dress up as a high class Roman lady or failing that a washer woman would do.

“Come on, I’ve had an idea,” Ezrah got up from their position on the roof, “lets find Rafa and Judith, talk it over with them.”

0=0=0=0


	7. Chapter 7

7.

**The Governor’s Palace, Jerusalem.**

Lying back on her pillows, Dawn gazed at the ceiling.

“Wow!” She sighed quietly, “That was freaking intense.”

Having been woken up by her own moans of pleasure, Dawn was wondering where her really vivid and detailed erotic dreams where coming from. Not even her memories of the most explicit of the stories in the magazines or romantic novels she’d read could account for them. It was just plain weird, her only explanation was that Princess Roshan, whose memories she shared and who she now had conversations with, wasn’t actually the innocent little virgin that her governess, Nana, thought she was. When Dawn thought back to some of the conversations she’d had with the dead teen, she couldn’t imagine how anyone could see her as a sweet, innocent anything!

Pushing back the covers, Dawn swung her legs out of bed; she was awake now so she might as well get up. As soon as her feet hit the floor the three servant girls who looked after her, appeared out of nowhere and started to help her out of bed.

“Get offa me!” Dawn screeched as she pulled herself free of the girl’s helping hands.

* _Have them whipped,_ * suggested Roshan’s voice from somewhere inside Dawn’s head.

“NO!” Dawn wasn’t sure whether she was yelling at the girls or the really annoying princess.

The girls backed off leaving Dawn breathing heavily as she sat on the edge of her bed. Having people to run your bath and help you get dressed was fine in theory, but you were never by yourself. However quite or unobtrusive as the serving girls were, Dawn always knew they were there and the constant attention was beginning to wear on her nerves. Knowing she shouldn’t have snapped like that, she looked at the girl’s faces, they looked terrified as they stood against the wall with their heads slightly bowed.

“Look,” Dawn slid all the way out of bed, “I’m sorry I yelled,” she noticed the confused looks on the girl’s faces as they glanced at one another. “It’s just…” Dawn took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh, “Look,” she tried to explain, “I don’t like being fused over, okay? In future just ask if I want help or something, okay?”

“Yes Domina,” the girls chorused.

“Okay,” Dawn ran her fingers through her hair, “why don’t you run me a bath then you can help me pick out something to wear.”

Looking more than a little relieved the girl’s rapidly left the room no doubt to get Dawn’s bath ready. Lifting the hem of her long night dress, Dawn headed off to the privy, she thought about the fearful look the girls had given her when she’d yelled at them.

“Anyone would think I was going to have them beaten or something,” Dawn muttered to herself.

* _They’re slaves,_ * Roshan observed, * _they expect to be beaten._ *

“What!?” Dawn stopped herself from looking around for the voice, she knew it was in her head; either she was going insane or her sister had played one last practical joke on her. “I will not have them whipped or beaten,” Dawn whispered, “that’s cruel they’re only trying to do their job.”

* _You’ll totally regret it,_ * the princess sniffed haughtily, * _They’ll think you’re soft and start to steal from you. At home I had my personnel slaves whipped at regular intervals._ *

“That’s just totally nasty,” Dawn snapped and tried to ignore the princess for a while.

The thought of being beaten brought back the memories of Nana punishing her for starting the riot, she winced at the remembered pain. The bruises had faded to nothing now and Nana had been acting like the incident had never happened, at least she’d never mentioned it again. Hitching up her nightdress, Dawn sat on the cold stone toilet seat; she knew she’d done wrong, she realised that now and that she should have kept her mouth shut and let the locals get on with the stoning, but… Well, it was just plain wrong; Dawn stood up and pushed down her nightdress before turning to head out to the main room. No one should be killed for just saying a god’s name.

Walking out into the big room, Dawn saw the servant girls pouring hot water into the sunken bath in the middle of the floor. The ‘bath’ was more like a small pool than a bath and doubled as a sort of centre piece for the room. Walking over to the pool, Dawn stuck her foot into the water.

“That’s fine, guys,” she smiled before pulling her night dress off over her head and handing it to one of the girls.

* _I still think you should have them whipped,_ * Roshan sulked, she sounded like she’d realised she wasn’t going to get her way.

“Shut up!” Dawn whispered.

* _Foolish Amer-i-can-girl,_ * muttered Roshan who was in a huff now.

Sitting on the edge of the pool Dawn slipped into the warm water. The pool was almost three feet deep and about four feet wide and eight feet long, it was just big enough to swim a couple of strokes. Floating in the water, Dawn regretted the lack of soap, she’d tried one of the Roman steam baths and had felt incredibly clean afterwards, but they took so long, more of a social function than a way of getting clean. It wasn’t something you could do everyday, so she did the best she could with the warm scented water she was swimming in.

After her bath, the girls rubbed her down with towels and helped her dress, this was the sort of ‘fussing’ Dawn didn’t mind. By the time she was dressed and her hair had been combed, brushed and arranged, she was looking forward to her breakfast. Going out into the main room again, Dawn noticed that someone had drained the pool and had refilled it with fresh water and water-lilies. Heading out on to the balcony, Dawn found Nana already sitting at the table eating her breakfast.

“Hello, Nana,” Dawn skipped over and kissed the woman on the cheek.

“Good morning dear,” Naheed smiled at Dawn as she looked her up and down, all the time really wanting to plunge a dagger into her heart, “you look nice today.”

“Thanks,” Dawn sat down across the table from Naheed, “I thought I’d try one of these Roman dresses today,” Dawn grinned hard enough to make her cheeks hurt, “Varro’s taking me to the games today.”

* _Excellent!_ * Roshan cried excitedly, Dawn chose to ignore her.

It had been nearly three weeks since the riot and Varro had been up and about for about a week and a half now; or longer if you believed what Roshan had said about him only pretending to be sick. He’d remembered his promise to take Dawn to the games and had asked her if she still wanted to go. Of course Dawn had said yes, she’d have said yes even if he’d asked her to watch paint dry with him. As long as Varro was there anything was fun, but there was still a little doubt at the back of Dawn’s mind as to whether he actually liked her or if he was just taking her places out of a sense of duty.

“That’ll be nice dear,” Naheed frowned slightly at the mention of the games; this was an opportunity lost as she’d not been able to arrange an assassination attempt at the arena, she cursed her bad luck.

Not noticing the look on her friend's face, Dawn tucked into her breakfast of fruit, nuts and yoghurt, she had her own worries (like whether she was insane or if she really had a dead princess in her head) to think about; and of course whether Varro really liked her or not.

“Nana,” Dawn began slowly her spoon poised above her bowl, “how do I get a man to like me?”

“Worried that Varro doesn’t care for you?” Naheed asked; not that she really cared whether he did or he didn’t.

“Yeah,” Dawn sulked as she poked her breakfast with her spoon, “he never seems to show much affection. He’s nice an’all but…”

“But he doesn’t gaze longingly into your eyes or write you love poems?” Naheed smiled evilly, which Dawn mistook for a smile of sympathy. “I expect he’s one of those ‘stoic’ types,” Naheed explained, “if he is and you’re expecting flowery speeches and protestations of undying love then you’re going to be waiting a very long time.”

“Oh,” Dawn’s shoulders slumped.

“Of course,” Nana went on matter-of-factly, “you could always offer to suck his phallus, men usually like you if you do that.”

“NANA!” Dawn squeaked at she dropped her spoon in shock.

* _You’d do well to listen to Nana,_ * Roshan spoke up, * _she’s a woman of the world and knows about such things._ *

“Of course then you have to be careful that he doesn’t just like you because you have,” Nana continued slowly, perhaps the little whore would suck his cock and choke to death saving her a lot of bother!

* _This is also true,_ * Roshan pointed out wisely.

“I-I’m not s-sucking anyone’s a-anything,” Dawn stammered trying to ignore Roshan’s interjections, “an-anyway I wouldn’t know how and it sounds gross and icky!”

* _Spoil sport, scaredy cat!_ * Sneered the princess.

“The how’s easy,” Naheed pointed out ignoring Dawn’s shock and obvious disgust, “you just let him put his phallus into your mouth and you suck, you know how to suck don’t you?” Naheed sighed as she looked at Dawn, imagining her choking to death with the Roman’s cock half way down her throat, “And as for the ‘gross’ and ‘icky’, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.”

* _Foolish Amer-i-can-girl,_ * Roshan smirked, * _how do you expect to find a husband if you don’t suck a little…_ *

“Nana, how could you suggest something like that?” Dawn asked cutting off what Roshan was about to say while all the time imagining what her mother would have said; what Buffy would have said about such a suggestion just didn’t bear thinking about.

* _And your sister is a foolish Amer-i-can-girl too,_ * Roshan remarked, * _Having sex with a sanguilipithicus, now that’s what I call ‘gross’ and ‘icky’!_ *

“What!?” Dawn squeaked, having two conversations going on at the same time would eventually drive her mad even if she wasn’t already.

“Well,” Naheed looked up from her own breakfast and gave Dawn a puzzled look, the girl had been acting really strangely since they’d arrived in Jerusalem, “you did ask and I just told you what you could do, it’s up to you, you’re a big girl now and you can make up your own mind.”

“I am?” Dawn asked slightly bewildered; she suddenly realised the down-side of being treated like an adult, people expected you to act like one.

* _Yes,_ * Roshan agreed with her one time governess.

“Of course,” Naheed gave her an innocent look, “you could just ask him.”

0=0=0=0

**The Arena Maximus, Jerusalem.**

“Oh-my-god!” Dawn gasped as she gazed with horrified fascination at the spectacle before her; how could she have been so stupid as to misunderstand what Varro had meant by ‘the games’?

“I know, they’re not very good, are they?” Misreading Dawn’s expression, Varro apologised for the quality of the show.

“Oh-god!” Dawn gulped as the last two criminals hacked each other to death; she screwed her eyes closed as she fought to keep down her breakfast.

* _Keep my eyes open,_ * Roshan cried, * _I can’t see what’s going on!_ *

“Which god?” Varro turned his head towards Dawn once again misreading her look of disgust for one of disdain for the quality of the spectacle.

“What?” Dawn opened her eyes but dragged them away from the blood spattered sand, much to Roshan’s disgust, “Sorry?”

“Which god do you keep invoking?” Varro looked honestly interested in which god Dawn was invoking; down in the arena slaves came to remove the bodies and pieces of bodies that lay around the arena like so much carelessly discarded offal.

“Erm!?” Dawn was confused she didn’t know where to look and to make matters worse they were in the good seats right down at the front.

* _Say Ishtar,_ * Roshan suggested helpfully, * _she was always my favourite Goddess._ *

“Why?” Dawn said to Roshan, while turning to Varro and saying, “Ishtar, I suppose!”

* _Goddess of sex, love and fertility_ * Roshan explained with just a hint of mischief in her voice.

“Great!” Dawn told the dead princess, before adding in her head, *now he’ll think I’m some sort of slut*.

“Oh,” Varro shrugged as he looked back towards the blood streaked sand, “I just thought your people might have a god dedicated to the games.”

“Like, way no,” Dawn shook her head as she glanced at Varro, he was watching the arena itself now and didn’t notice her panicked look.

Dawn didn’t know what to make of him now, he’d always seemed a nice kind guy who still wanted to take her places even after she’d nearly got him killed. Yet here he was watching men kill each other for entertainment’s sake. These troubling thoughts were interrupted by an announcement introducing the next bout. Her head seemed to turn of its own volition as she watched a man armed with a net and a trident being pushed unceremoniously out into the arena.

* _Don’t you dare close your eyes,_ * Roshan warned, * _this looks like it could be fun!_ *

“Oooh,” Dawn groaned quietly.

“Ah!” Varro turned to smile at Dawn, “a Retiarii, I expect he’ll be fighting a…” Varro’s eyes drifted over to where a man in a helmet, carrying a sword and shield walked confidently on to the sand, “…yes, a Hoplomachi.” 

“Great,” Dawn replied apprehensively; once again Varro misread her expression as one of anticipation.

“Look,” he reached out and took one of Dawn’s hands in his own (her heart did a backward, double somersault at his mere touch), “I know this isn’t very good,” the two gladiators circled each other just below where the couple sat, “the gladiators aren’t up to the standard you get in Rome or even the smaller Italian arenas.” Varro laughed as the net man tried to trip the swordsman and spear him with his trident, “OH! Come on!” Varro called to the fighters, “Do wake up down there!”

The Retiarii started to run away from the Hoplomachi and Dawn found herself following their every move around the arena.

“Gods below!” Exclaimed Varro as he shouted at the gladiators, “This is a fight not a foot race you know!”

Just at the moment, Dawn thought she’d much rather be watching a foot race; Roshan on the other hand seemed to be enjoying the spectacle as her laughter echoed in Dawn’s head would seem to suggest.

“Where was I?” Varro turned his attention back to Dawn, “As I was saying, this is poor fare compared to what you see in Rome,” Varro sighed wistfully as if remembering better times. “I mean last time I was home on leave I saw this little gladiatrix girl chop up near a dozen prisoners all by herself.”

“Gladiatrix?” Dawn asked dragging her eyes away from where the two men chased each other around and around the arena; Roshan screamed in frustration when she couldn’t see, Dawn looked back at the action just to keep the other girl quiet.

“A female gladiator,” Varro glanced down at the fighters below, “Oh, Jupiter Greatest and Best! What are these two playing at?”

“S-so,” Dawn concentrated on the gladiators, anything to keep Roshan from screaming and complaining, it was starting to give her a headache, “they have women fighters too?”

“Oh yes,” Varro grinned at her as he nodded his head, “but they’re very rare, I mean before I saw this Buffitrix girl I’d never seen one before.”

“Oh,” Dawn nodded her head slowly as she realised what Varro had just said, “Buffitrix?” She demanded as she grabbed hold of Varro’s arm and held it so tightly it made him wince; Buffitrix was the name her sister’s ghost (or whatever) had given her, that was the name of the version of Buffy she had to help. “Describe her!”

* _Hey!_ * Complained Roshan, * _I can’t see!_ *

*Shut up!* Dawn warned the other girl, *This is important.*

“Sorry?” Varro frowned as he looked from Dawn’s hand to her face.

“Tell me what she looked like!” Dawn demanded urgently.

“Well,” Varro scratched his head while the gladiators stopped chasing each other and exchanged blows instead. “It was a while ago, let me see…”

“Oh please remember,” Dawn begged.

“Ah, yes I remember now,” Varro nodded his head as the memories came back to him, “Short,” he began, “a little shorter than you, blonde hair, nice breasts and oh, yes an odd nose.”

“Odd nose?” Dawn repeated slowly.

“Yes,” Varro nodded, “I remember thinking ‘that’s a distinctive nose’,” he smiled, “not ugly you understand just different, quite pretty in fact even covered in blood…”

“Blood?” Dawn gasped while below her the net man killed the swordsman with a thrust of his trident.

“Well she’d just killed about a dozen prisoners, you understand,” Varro explained.

“A dozen!?” Once again Dawn called on the gods, “Oh god!”

“I say Princess,” Varro gave her a concerned look, “you’ve gone awfully pale, are you feeling alright?”

“Fine,” Dawn nodded as plans started to form in her head, her sister, or at least a version of her sister was one of these gladiatrix girls fighting in the arena in Rome, “never better.”

“You sure, Princess,” Varro frowned, “because you don’t look it.”

“Look, Varro,” Dawn turned to face Varro and clutched both of his hands in her own; “do you love me?”

* _That’s it girl,_ * Roshan cheered in Dawn’s head, * _offer to suck his…_ *

*Shhh!* Dawn shh-ed.

“W-what!?” Varro spluttered at Dawn’s question, “Well I suppose I…”

“Look,” Dawn cried earnestly, “I’ve got to get to Rome and find this Buffitrix girl, will you help me?”

“I say Princess, hold your horses there a moment,” Varro smiled uneasily into Dawn’s suddenly intense eyes, “we can’t go wandering off to Rome just like that,” Varro explained, “these things take time and-and what about your governess what’ll she say about it?”

“I can talk her around,” Dawn assured him, “Please Varro, you’ve totally got to help me,” she begged, “look,” Dawn desperately thought of something she could do or give him to make him help her, “if you help me I’ll suck your thingy an’ everything!”

* _There,_ * Roshan laughed, * _I knew you’d come ‘round to my way of thinking!_ *

“My thingy?” Varro frowned as he tried to work out what Dawn was talking about, after a moment the lamp lit up above his head. “Steady on Princess, old thing, there’s no need for that sort of thing…”

“But please,” Dawn beseeched, “I’ve got to help my sister, I’ll do anything…”

* _ANYTHING!?_ the princess cried, * _You be careful what you agreed to do with my body, I’ve heard these Romans are into some…_ *

*Keep quiet!* Dawn snapped at Roshan.

“Sister?” Varro asked more than a little puzzled, “I thought your sister was…”

“Look its hard to explain,” Dawn continued, quickly thinking up what she hoped would be a plausible story, “but I have another half-sister, she’s called Buffy…”

* _By Ishtar, what a stupid name!_ * Roshan muttered.

“Buffy?” Varro smiled, “What a silly name,” he mused, but then there was no accounting for barbarians.

“She disappeared a few years ago…” Dawn continued with her improbable tale.

“Ah!” Varro exclaimed, “I see, Buffy-Buffitrix, indeed, so you think this gladiatrix is your sister, was she known for fighting?”

Dawn nodded as she gave Varro her most, pleading, appealing, beseeching, hopeful look.

“Well in that case,” Varro squeezed Dawn’s hands in his own, “of course I’ll help. If she’s your sister…”

“It sounds like her,” Dawn agreed hopefully.

“Of course you must try and find her,” Varro proclaimed, “I am, of course, at your service and there’ll be no need for you to suck anything, it’ll be an honour to accompany you to Rome!”

“Oh thank-you, Varro!” Dawn gasped as she threw herself into his arms and kissed him passionately on the lips.

* _Now rub yourself against him,_ * Roshan suggested excitedly.

“Oh I say, Princess,” Varro gasped, he’d never had such a good kissing before in his life, “Steady on, people are watching…”

“To Hades with them!” Dawn exclaimed just before she kissed Varro again.

* _GO GIRL, GO!_ * Roshan cheered as she enjoyed the sensation of kissing and being kissed by Varro.

0=0=0=0


	8. Chapter 8

8.

**Night, central Jerusalem.**

Walking stealthily along the narrow alley, Ehsan paused in a doorway and looked up and down the moonlit, alleyway just to make sure he wasn’t being followed. Seeing the alley was as deserted now as it had been when he’d first entered it he gave a sigh of relief before glancing up at the sky. The moon was full and cast its cold, silvery light over the city giving him enough illumination to see by for which he was thankful; he was also thankful that as far as he knew there were no werewolves in Judea.

Stepping out onto the cobblestones once more, Ehsan made his way along the alley towards the square; his contacts would be waiting on the far side and he was already a little late. He’d fought the forces of darkness wherever they might be and in whatever guise they took from the time he’d first joined the Servitum Secretus Romanus. Here there was no venetrix to fight the forces of evil, so men like himself had to do it by themselves. He’d had to learn to fight all manner of monsters; luckily he was a quick study for practical things and he’d found that the monsters of Judea where not as formidable as the creatures he’d faced further north.

They were still strong and powerful, but a brave and determined man could hack a sanguilipithicus or daemon to pieces with a good sword. A fire arrow would still reduce a sanguilipithicus to a pile of dust and send most daemons and monsters scurrying for cover. Plus he and his comrades weren’t completely alone; there were other people, other organisations that fought on the side of light; not even the Jews were foolish enough to let monsters run freely around their country. 

Stopping on the corner of a passageway, Ehsan looked across the empty square, his comrades where probably hidden in the deep shadows in one of the alleys opposite. Just as he was about to cross the square and hopefully meet his contacts; his eyes were drawn by movement, someone was moving about at the far end of the square. Over by the palace wall stood a man in typical workman’s clothes, he appeared to be painting something on the wall. Torn between meeting up with his comrades and finding out what the man could possibly be doing at such a late hour, Ehsan eventually broke cover and started to walk silently across the square. Coming up behind the man, who was so engrossed in what he was doing that he hadn’t noticed his arrival; Ehsan saw that the man was painting a slogan on the wall in red paint.

“What’s this, then?” Ehsan asked conversationally, “‘Romanes Eunt Domus’?” He scratched his head while he translated, “‘People called Romanes they go the house’?” 

“Aaagh!” The man screamed quietly and almost fell over in surprise, he looked at Ehsan with fear filled eyes, however when he spoke there was a certain hint of defiance in his voice “It-it says, 'Romans, go home'.”

“No it doesn’t,” Ehsan shook his head; the guy obviously belonged to one of the multitude of anti-Roman groups that plagued Judea.

“Yes it does!” By now the ‘freedom fighter’ had recovered from his shock and had turned to face Ehsan his hand moving menacingly towards the knife on his belt.

“Look,” Ehsan sighed tiredly as he saw the man’s hand start to move; he pulled back his cloak to reveal the sword that hung from his belt, “there’s nothing so stupid as badly spelt graffiti.”

“What do you know?” The freedom fighter demanded, “You’re a bleedin’ foreigner, bad as the Roman’s you lot are,” the man paused for a moment before adding, “Judea for the Judeans!”

“Oh well,” Ehsan sighed as he started to back away from the increasingly agitated man, “you keep spelling it like that and all you’re going to do is give the Roman’s a bloody good laugh when they see it.”

Shrugging, Ehsan turned away and started to walk across the square, some people would not be helped. As he walked away he heard footsteps running up behind him. Turning swiftly he saw the so-called freedom fighter coming at him with his knife raised. Before he’d even completed his turn, Ehsan had thrown his cloak into the face of the knifeman with one hand while pulling his sword free of its scabbard with the other. The insurgent stumbled and almost fell as he fought off Ehsan’s cloak. He got himself free of its entangling folds just in time to see his would-be victim’s sword blade flash in the moonlight.

“UUUGH!” Groaned the freedom fighter as his looked down in surprise at the sword sticking out of his belly, “Where’d that come from?” He wondered as his knees gave way and he fell onto the dusty cobblestones.

“‘Bleedin’ ‘foreigner’ am I?” Ehsan pulled his sword from the graffitist’s stomach, “Well,” he sneered at the dead man, “who’s bleeding now?”

Bending, Ehsan wiped his sword blade on the man’s tunic and then retrieved his cloak. Standing up he was just in time to see several soldiers run swiftly and silently towards him.

“Minotaur!” Ehsan called quietly.

“Hydra!” Came the counter sign as the soldiers slowed to a halt.

A man broke away from the group and came over to stand next to Ehsan, he glanced down at the dead man before speaking.

“Ehsan the Auctor Secretus?” He asked, Ehsan nodded his head, “Centurion Spurius, Fifth Century, Peculiaris Extraordinarii.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Ehsan grinned as he put away his sword, “call me Ehsan.”

“What went on here?” Spurius pointed to the dead body.

“Oh,” Ehsan sighed and shook his head sadly, “just another, so-called, freedom fighter who couldn’t get his grammar right.”

“Huh?” Spurius looked at Ehsan just a little puzzled.

“He was writing, ‘Romanes Eunt Domus’ on the wall over there,” Ehsan pointed to where a paint pot and brush stood forlornly against the wall.

“Ha!” Laughed the Centurion, a stickler for correct grammar, “People like that deserve to die!”

“Can you get rid of the body?” Ehsan asked.

“I’ll have a clean up crew round before first light,” Spurius reassured Ehsan, “Now to business,” the soldier continued, “my tribune tells me you know the location of this sanguilipithicus nest.”

“Yes,” Ehsan nodded and pointed to an alley leading off the square near where the paint pot still stood, “there’s three of them and they’re in tonight.”

“Good,” Spurius’ teeth flashed in the darkness as he smiled, “my lads are itching for a good scrap! Lead on Brother Ehsan!”

0=0=0=0

**Dawn’s Bedchamber in the Governor’s Palace.**

Dawn awoke to the sure and certain knowledge that there was someone else in the room with her. Moving her hand towards the wooden stake that she kept under her pillow, she listened to the sound of bare feet slapping quietly on the marble floor as whatever it was crossed the room towards her bed. Her fingers found the stake just as she sensed something big and heavy climb onto her bed. Fighting against her rising panic, Dawn grasped the stake in her right hand as she felt the bed covers begin to be pulled from off her body.

Hearing what sounded like excited breathing, Dawn realised that what was on her bed probably wasn’t a vampire. It didn’t matter, she told herself, she kept her stake good and sharp. If she stabbed a human with it they’d know they’d been stabbed and no mistake! Feeling a cool hand on her shoulder, Dawn felt herself being rolled over onto her back. Having been sleeping on her right side, the intruder was doing her a favour by freeing up her right arm and hand along with her stake. Getting ready to stab and scream for her guards, Dawn fought against her fears as she felt the intruder carefully push up her nightdress and pull her legs apart.

‘Bastard’ she thought, the intruder’s weight had shifted and she was fairly sure that he was kneeling between legs, time to ‘wake up’.

“AAAGH!” Dawn screamed as she brought her stake around and down towards the intruders shoulder.

Faster than she thought possible, the intruder grabbed her stake arm by the wrist while putting his other hand over her mouth to stifle her screams.

“Shhh!” Shh’ed the intruder urgently, “You’re not supposed to wake up!”

“MMMPH MMPH MMMMMPH!” Dawn mumbled as she fought to free herself from the rapist’s grasp.

* _What!?_ * Roshan had woken up too, * _What’s going on? Why’ve you woken me up in the middle of the night?_ *

“Look,” the intruder’s voice had more than a little pleading in it, “if you promise not to scream I’ll take my hand away from your mouth.”

“Mmmmph!” Dawn replied.

* _Who’s this man?_ * Roshan demanded, * _Is he your lover?_ * The princess sounded a little hurt and betrayed, * _How could you take a lover and not tell me?_ *

“Promise?” Asked the intruder.

* _Don’t promise anything,_ * the dead princess advised.

“Mmmph,” Dawn nodded her head.

The intruder removed his hand and Dawn was just filling her lungs to give one of her classic, ‘help, I’m being sexually assaulted’ type screams when she noticed the additional set of arms growing under the more usual set of arms hanging from the creature’s, wide shoulders. As her eyes grew more accustomed to the moonlit darkness of the room she also noticed the creature’s long white hair and glowing golden eyes; however the number of arms seemed to her to be the most important thing at the moment so she addressed those first.

“Hey!” Dawn gasped quietly, “Like, did you know you’ve got more than the usual number of arms?”

* _IEEEE!_ * Roshan screamed in Dawn’s head making her wince, * _He’s a daemon kill him!_ *

“Um,” the demon let go of Dawn’s wrists and sat back on his heels between Dawn’s legs, “yes, I’m a Lust Daemon,” the demon hesitated before adding, “but I’m not very good at it,” he frowned, “How come you woke up its not supposed to work like that, you’ve never done it before.”

* _Don’t believe him,_ * Roshan advised, whilst giving the impression of hiding behind Dawn’s brain* _he’s a daemon kill him!_ * The princess sounded really frightened, * _OH! Why don’t you sleep with a dagger under you pillow like any other sane woman?_ *

*Shh!* Dawn told the princess in her head.

* _Don’t you ‘Shh’ me, foolish Amer-i-can-girl!_ * Snapped the princess, * _I’m a royal princess and I will not be Shh-ed!_ *

*Shut-up then!* Dawn snapped back angrily, it was bad enough dealing with four armed, rapist demons without having dead princess’ screaming at you in your head.

“Demon eh?” Dawn replied nonchalantly; she looked sceptically at the smooth, black skinned creature as she pushed herself up into a sitting position; she rearranged her nightdress so she wasn’t exposing any more of her than was proper. “Okay then, demon, I can get that; now what are you doing climbing into a girl’s bed and trying to…” Dawn’s eyes fell on the demon’s erect penis and gulped, “…could you totally cover that thing up please?”

* _By the goddess!_ * Squealed Roshan excitedly, * _Look at the size of that!_ *

*I am,* Dawn replied silently, *that’s the problem!*

* _I don’t see a problem,_ * smirked the princess, changing her mind about the demon like she’d change her dress.

“You’re a slut,” Dawn told her firmly.

“What?” the demon frowned at Dawn and then looked down at himself; he quickly pulled the sheet around his middle, “Is that better?”

“Much,” Dawn nodded.

* _You never let me have any fun,_ * Roshan sulked.

“Anyway what sort of demon is a lust demon?” Dawn really wished she had kept a dagger under her pillow like Roshan had suggested, maybe a sword would have been even better.

“It’s the sort of daemon,” replied the demon apologetically, “that comes to the beds of young women, like yourself, and has daemonic sex with them.”

“Demonic sex?” Dawn was worried now and wanted clarification.

“Yes,” the demon shrugged miserably, “but you’re not supposed to wake up, you’re only supposed to remember my visit as a really intense erotic dream,” the demon sighed sadly, “I told you I wasn’t much good at this.”

“So basically you crawl into a girl’s bed at night and rape her?” Dawn wanted to know.

“Yes,” The demon sighed, “well sort of…”

“Sort of?” Dawn was wondering if she shouldn’t start screaming right now; her guards were close by and she was fairly confident she could fight off the demon for as long as it took them to arrive.

The demon opened his mouth to explain further but was halted by Dawn before he’d even had a chance to get started.

“No!” Dawn shook her head, “I don’t think I want to know, y’know?”

* _You know,_ * Roshan informed her; she’d come back from wherever it was she’d gone to sulk, * _he’s really quite nice in a sort of daemonic way,_ * Dawn could hear Roshan start to breath more heavily as she found her arm, seemingly moving of its own accord, start to stroke the demon’s arm. * _His skin is so smooth and…_ *

“Roshan!” Dawn warned as she snatched back control of her arm.

* _Oh,_ * Roshan whined, * _you’re no fun, you know that?_ * 

“No,” Dawn shook her head firmly, “the only story I want to hear is how you’re going to leave and never come back.” Suddenly something the demon had said poked at the back of her mind, “You said I’d not woken up before,” the horrible truth dawned on Dawn, “you’ve been here before!” Dawn pulled her legs up underneath her and gathered the bedding around her chin, “You’ve totally been here before haven’t you?”

“Umm, yes,” the demon shrugged apologetically, “three or four times actually.”

* _Disgusting!_ * Roshan exclaimed, * _And he never woke us up!_ * She sounded very disappointed now, * _How rude!_ *

“That’s why I’ve been having all those totally intense sex dreams,” Dawn gasped not really hearing what Roshan had implied, “isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” the demon hedged as he got off the bed.

“OH MY GOD!” Dawn shrieked as the truth came home to her, she pointed a trembling finger accusingly at the demon. “If you’ve got me pregnant with some half-human-demon-hell-god-thing, I’ll…I’ll,” words failed Dawn for a moment, “You’re totally sick y’know that?”

“I’m a daemon,” explained the demon, “what do you expect?” Dawn could see his point, “Oh and don’t worry,” the demon had by now got completely off Dawn’s bed and appeared to be looking for the exit, “that only happens if you’re a virgin.”

“And you’re implying I’m not a virgin?” Dawn stood up on the bed to better confront the lust demon.

* _You’re a virgin?_ * Roshan sounded really surprised, before adding proudly * _I haven’t been a virgin since I was twelve!_ *

“You’re really gross sometimes,” Dawn told the princess.

“Well, yeah,” the demon stopped looking for the exit and smiled guiltily at Dawn, “come on you’re so not a virgin.”

“What!?” Dawn gasped, “When? How?”

Of course, Dawn sighed, if Roshan wasn’t a virgin she couldn’t be a virgin, well not officially.

“What? You mean…” The demon stepped closer to Dawn and stared into her eyes for a moment, “Oh I see…”

“See what?” Dawn clutched her stake tightly ready to stab if the demon made any move to grab her.

“You do know there’s two of you in there, don’t you?” The demon asked.

“Yeah, totally!” Dawn was starting to wish that this was all a nightmare and she could wake up.

“There’s two people in your head,” the demon explained, “you and another different you.”

“Like, you think I totally haven’t noticed?” Dawn replied with heavy sarcasm.

“Look,” the demon had found the door and was trying to open it, “I’ve got to go, sorry for disturbing you…did you know your door’s stuck?”

“Stuck?” Dawn queried as she jumped out of bed; in a couple of strides she was at the door and had pushed the demon out of the way; she examined the door. “It’s not stuck,” Dawn announced, “It’s locked from the outside!” A worrying thought came to Dawn’s mind; she turned and looked up at the demon, “If the doors locked, how did you get in?”

“I climbed in through your balcony,” the demon gestured towards the balcony with one large, ebony hand.

Turning towards the balcony, Dawn gasped as she saw a man in dark blue robes standing on the balcony clutching a sword in his hand, while two other men were still climbing over the balcony wall. Dawn had the distinct impression that none of the men were here to deliver bunches of flowers, boxes of chocolates or baskets of puppies.

* _IEEEE!_ * Roshan’s scream echoed loudly around inside Dawn’s head, * _Assassins!_ *

Being inclined to agree with Roshan’s assessment of the situation, Dawn took a firm hold on her stake and rushed at the first assassin. Unused to being attacked by young women dressed in their nightgowns and wielding wooden stakes, the first assassin hesitated when he should have been thrusting his sword into his assailant’s belly. However, he did and Dawn was able to stab him in the shoulder making him drop his sword and stumble away from her.

Snatching up the sword, Dawn held it in both hands and turned to face the other two assassins as they jumped down off the balcony wall and advanced towards her. Realising she was totally outclassed, Dawn started to give ground. Both her attackers outweighed her easily and they both carried swords and unlike Dawn looked as if they knew how to use them.

* _Scream!_ * Suggested Roshan.

“Good idea!” Dawn screamed with all the ear numbing volume that she could muster.

Just as her high pitched shriek left her mouth, one of the assassins leaped towards her bringing his sword down aiming to cleave her skull in two. With a skill she’d not realised she possessed, Dawn parried the blow and even made a clumsy attempt at a riposte. Although her attack never made contact, it did make the assassin jump back a little and reassess his opponent. 

Screaming again, Dawn wondered where her guards where as she tried to watch all three assassins at the same time. For their part the assassins appeared a little confused, they’d obviously not expected to find their victim awake and willing to fight for her life. However, they quickly adapted their tactics to the new situation; while one man kept Dawn’s attention by making wild swipes at her with his sword, the other man crept around behind her ready to stab her from behind.

Having taken shelter in the shadows around the edge of the room at the first sign of trouble, the lust demon stood and watched the fight develop. The princess was screaming as she fought to keep her assailants from stabbing her, the demon knew it would be only a matter of moments before the girl’s guards arrived and burst in to kill everything in the chamber that wasn’t a princess. It was time for him to leave, but the three assassins were between him and his escape route.

Fortunately the demon saw a way out of his dilemma; as he’d been working his way around the room to get behind the princess one of the assassins hadn’t noticed the seven foot tall demon hiding in the corner of the room. As the hired killer lifted his sword to plunge it into the princess’ back he was most surprised to feel large, strong, black hands clasp hold of his shoulders. He was even more surprised when another pair of hands took hold of his head. His surprise knew no bounds when he felt his head being twisted right off, after that he was never surprised by anything again.

Seeing the door burst open and armed men pile into the room the last hail and hearty assassin decided this was no place for him. Taking one last swipe at Dawn, he turned grabbed hold of his injured comrade and climbed over the balcony wall and into the darkness. 

Finding herself surrounded by her guards, Dawn relaxed and let her sword drop to her side. Watching she saw the guard called Ehsan shoot a couple of arrows down into the courtyard below her window. His second arrow was greeted with a strangled cry as it struck home and killed one of her erstwhile assailants.

* _Are they gone?_ * Roshan asked still a little frightened before adding, * _You’re so much braver than me, Dawn._ *

“Kitten!” Screeched Naheed as she rushed into the room and gathered Dawn to her ample bosom, “Are you hurt? Did those evil men do anything to you?” As she hugged her charge while all the while cursing the incompetence of the assassins she’d hired, Naheed’s eyes fell on the assassin who’d had his head pulled off, “Did you pull the head off that assassin?” Naheed asked slowly.

“Erm,” Dawn noticed the body and all the blood for the first time.

* _It must have been the daemon,_ * Roshan pointed out, * _where’d he go?_ *

“Totally,” Dawn replied, the word could have meant almost anything, she was just glad that she was safe now.

0=0=0=0


	9. Chapter 9

9.

**The Headquarters of the Peoples Front for Judea.**

Deep under The King Herod Memorial Home for Waifs and Orphans the People’s Front were having yet another meeting; they did this quite a lot. If the truth was told and the Romans could be thrown out of Judea simply by the Popular Front having meeting, Judea would now be free of the Imperial yoke; and the Romans would be back in Italy wondering what had happened. Strangely, as we join the Popular Front’s meeting, they were just about to discuss this very subject.

“Right, now,” Rafa ran his eyes down the list of subjects that were written on the wax tablet he was holding, “erm, item four,” he looked up and glanced around the lamp lit cellar, “attainment of world supremacy within the next five years.” He looked to his left, “Umm, Ezrah, you've been doing some work on this.” 

“Yeah, thank-you, Sibling Rafa,” Ezrah got slowly to his feet as he began to address the room, “Well,” he sighed sadly, “quite frankly, siblings, I think five years is optimistic, unless we can smash the Roman empire within the next twelve months.” 

“Twelve months?” Rafa asked, no one had said anything to him about twelve months. 

“Yeah,” Ezrah continued, “twelve months and, let's face it,” he gave a self deprecating laugh, “as empires go, this is the big one, so we've got to get up off our arses and stop just talking about it!”

“Hear! Hear!” Cried the twenty or so activists huddled on the floor in front of the central committee’s table. 

“I agree,” Shem sprang to his feet to support his comrade’s words, “its action that counts, not words and we need action now!”

“Right-on, siblings!” cried the activists from the floor. 

“You're right,” Rafa concurred firmly, “We could sit around here all day talking, passing resolutions, making clever speeches.” He shook his head sadly, “But it's not going to shift one bleedin’ Roman soldier!” 

“So,” Ezrah took the floor again, “let's just stop gabbing on about it.” He pounded his fist on the table, “It's completely pointless and it's getting us nowhere!” 

“HURRAH!” Cried the activists eager for action.

“I agree,” cried Shem shaking his fist at imaginary Romans, “This is a complete waste of time…”

Before the Popular Front could storm the governor’s palace and free Judea from the iron grip of Roman tyranny the door to the cellar burst open and Judith ran into the room. 

“The Romans have killed Tahmid!” Judith gasped breathlessly as she pushed her way through the activists towards the committee’s table.

“What?” Demanded Rafa.

“Who?” Muttered the activists; as the activists habitually kept their faces covered at meetings it was difficult to tell who was who, which was the whole point of keeping their faces covered.

“A Roman agent killed him in Palace Square,” Judith explained, “I saw it all,” she continued, “I was there giving sibling Tahmid fraternal support as he bravely wrote slogans on the palace wall demanding that the Romans withdraw from Judea immediately. When,” Judith gave a heroic sob, “when a Roman agent came up to him, criticised his grammar and then, without any provocation…stabbed him!”

There were gasps of horror and outrage from the floor, something needed to be done right now to avenge Tahmid’s death, whoever he might have been.

“Right!” Rafa sprang to his feet again, “This calls for immediate discussion!” 

“Yeah!” Agreed an activist from the back of the crowd where no one could tell who he was even if he hadn’t got his face covered.

“What?!” Judith gasped turning pleadingly towards the other committee members for support.

“Immediate,” Agreed another activist hoping that this wouldn’t take long as he was hoping to meet a young lady ‘friend’ for a couple of cups of wine before heading home to his wife. 

“Right,” Repeated the first activist not wanting to really be involved with any action what-so-ever.

“New motion?” Shem queried.

“Completely new motion,” Agreed Rafa, “erm, that, we…” inspiration came to Rafa in a flash, “that there be, ah, immediate action…”

“Once the vote has been taken,” Shem pointed out a point of order.

“Well, obviously once the vote's been taken,” Rafa rolled his eyes at Shem before explaining, “You can't act on a resolution ‘til you've voted on it... 

“Rafa, for God's sake,” Judith cried as she started towards the door, “let's act now!”

“Yeah-yeah.,” Rafa made dismissive gestures at Judith while he continued to explain procedure to Shem.

“Please!” Judith begged in frustration.

“Right-right,” Rafa nodded his head giving the appearance of weighing up the pros and cons of actually doing anything positive at all.

“Right,” Ezrah held his stylus poised above his wax tablet.

“In the,” Rafa began full of his own self importance, “in the light of fresh information from, ahh, sibling Judith…”

“Ah, not so fast, Rafa,” Shem turned towards the chairman, he’d thought of another point of order that needed to be complied with.

“Rafa, for God's sake,” Judith said being careful not to mention the Lord’s name, as she had no wish to be stoned to death, “it's perfectly simple. All you've got to do is to go out of that door now and hit back at the Romans,” she explained as if talking to a child, “It's happening, Rafa!” She looked imploringly at the other members of the Central Committee, “Something's actually happening!” No one seemed to understand the full seriousness of the situation, “Can't you understand that?!” 

Realising she was getting nowhere and finally seeing Rafa for what he really was, Judith screamed in frustration, turned and ran out the door. If Rafa and the others wouldn’t avenge Tahmid’s brutal slaying then she would, alone if necessary; she would kill the Roman agent who’d murdered her comrade.

“Uh-huh,” Rafa glanced around the room knowingly following Judith’s rapid departure, “I see…”

“Oh, dear,” Ezrah nodded his head wisely, he’d always said it was a bad idea to let women into the organisation.

“Another little ego trip for the feminists,” Rafa announced before going back to the important business of composing the latest resolution in the never ending war against the Roman Empire.

0=0=0=0

**The Governor’s Palace.**

After the excitement of the previous night, Captain Sher held a full inquiry into the attempt on the princess’ life the following morning. It was found that the door to Dawn’s room had been tied closed which suggested an inside job. Immediately, Captain Sher called for Dawn’s three servant girls to be brought before him. After being questioned for several minutes the girls denied any knowledge of who had tied the door shut. With an exasperated sign, Captain Sher had the girls tortured until one of them confessed to having been paid by a man with a mask hiding his face to tie the door closed. Satisfied that he’d got everything he was going to out of the slave girls, he sent them to the prison underneath the palace there to await their turn to be crucified; after all it was their first offence.

One of the assassins had been killed when Ehsan had shot him with an arrow, while another had had his head pulled off by the princess herself. Everyone now looked at Dawn with something approaching awe (and not a little fear). Satisfied that he’d uncovered everything he was likely to for now, Captain Sher called an end to the inquiry, and ordered that from now on at least one guard should be posted outside the princess’ room at night.

He would, of course, continue his investigation in the hopes of finding out who was responsible for the attempt on Dawn’s life. The consensus of opinion and the little evidence they’d found on the two assassins bodies appeared to point to one of the many Judean liberation movements that infested the city. No doubt they were trying to kill Dawn in revenge for her starting the riot in temple square.

0=0=0=0

**A little later that very afternoon.**

“Rome?” Naheed gave Dawn a puzzled look, “What do you want to go to Rome for?”

Dawn had been hoping that Naheed wouldn’t ask this question because she really didn’t have a good reply.

“You know what they say?” Naheed continued seemingly not noticing Dawn’s confusion; after the débâcle with the assassins, she was too busy trying to work out how she could use this latest twist to her advantage, “See Rome and die,” Naheed shook her head, if only… “sounds like a very dangerous place to me.”

“I don’t think they meant it like that, Nana,” Dawn replied as she fiddled with her bracelets, “and do you really think Jerusalem is that safe?”

“Hmmm,” Naheed replied non-committaly, “But why Rome?” 

* _Didn’t your sister’s ghost say Pompeii?_ * Roshan pointed out helpfully.

*Rome? Pompeii?* Replied Dawn, completely ignorant of Italian geography, *What’s the difference?*

“Well, erm,” Dawn knew she needed to think up a good reason to get Naheed to go along with her plan, unfortunately the next words were out of her mouth before she’d had time to fully think about their consequences. “Varro want’s me to meet his parents before we get married!”

* _MARRIED!?_ * Roshan shrieked, * _When did that happen?_ *

“Married!?” Naheed gasped, “When did this happen?”

Only now did Dawn appreciate the full significance of what she’d suggested, not only had Varro not asked her to marry him but she didn’t even know whether he lived in Rome.

“OOH!” Naheed rushed across the room to wrap Dawn in one of her warmest embraces, “My little Kitten,” she sobbed into Dawn’s hair, “getting married.” Letting go of her charge, Naheed held Dawn at arms length and smiled at her warmly, “And about time too!” If the girl married the no-account soldier it might save her the bother of having her killed, “I thought you were going to turn into an old maid.”

* _I agree with Nana, I thought our cunny was going to heal up from lack of use!_ * Roshan sniggered.

“Like, I’m not even fifteen yet,” Dawn replied, for the moment forgetting that she wasn’t actually getting married, “what do you mean, old maid?”

* _By the gods,_ * Roshan sighed, * _Nearly fifteen and still a virgin, just as well I’m here to tell you how it’s done; what a strange world you come from._ *

*Shut-up!* Dawn snapped in her mind

“Never mind that, dear,” Naheed began to bustle around the room as she started to plan their trip; it would involve a long sea voyage giving her plenty of opportunities to push the girl over the side and watch her drown. “We need to get organised,” she counted off points on her fingers, “I’ll need to arrange for letters of credit to take to Rome with us,” she turned to look Dawn up and down, “And you’ll need some new outfits and some personnel slaves…”

“Slaves!?” Dawn demanded, having seen the three girls being dragged away to be tortured and executed, she had no wish to own any more slaves. “What do I want slaves for?”

* _Take it from me,_ * Roshan gave the impression of looking Dawn up and down with distaste (which was a neat trick if you’re inside the person’s head) * _You need at least one maid with good taste._ *

“A young, important, lady like yourself, has to have her own slaves, my dear,” Naheed explained, and slaves would give her someone to blame the girl’s death on, “I’ve heard the Romans are very snobbish about such things.”

“But I don’t want…” Dawn tried to explain that slavery was wrong and she wanted no part in it, but Naheed rolled over her objections like a big, busty, avalanche.

“Perhaps the Palace Chamberlain will sell us a couple of girls,” Nana smiled at Dawn who tried to object again, but once again Nana didn’t give her the chance. “I mean they all seem well trained apart for the tendency to let assassins into your chamber in the middle of the night…”

Letting, Naheed ramble on about buying slave girls and arranging to sail for Rome, Dawn suddenly realised why the three girls had looked so terrified when she’d snapped at them the other morning. They’d looked so frightened and now Dawn realised why they’d agreed to help try to kill her. They’d actually been really scared that she’d have them beaten, Roshan hadn’t been joking about beating slaves at regular intervals, she’d really meant it. The thought made Dawn think about everything she’d said and done around the three young women. In future, she promised herself, she’d watch her tongue and be more careful of what she said.

“Nana,” Dawn interrupted her friend in mid-organisation, “I’m going to find Varro and tell him the good news.”

* _Yes,_ * Roshan agreed, * _It might be an idea to tell the poor man he’s going to marry you._ *

Dawn chose to ignore Roshan’s comment for now. Yes, poor Varro, Dawn thought as she turned to head for the door; probably best if he were to find out from her that they were pretending to be engaged before he heard it from anyone else.

“Don’t forget your guards, dear,” Naheed called after her, “and Kitten,” she added, “best not to let him between your thighs before its officially announced.”

* _Nana’s probably right,_ * Roshan said slowly, * _usually is about these things,_ * The dead girl in Dawn’s head grinned lasciviously, * _Of course there’s other things you can do apart from full coitus._ *

*‘Coitus?’* Dawn quieried as she tried to translate the word, its meaning soon came to her, *EWWWW! Gross!*

* _No wonder you’re still a virgin,_ * Roshan tutted in disgust.

“Yes Nana,” Dawn grimaced trying to ignore Roshan’s words; somehow she couldn’t imagine her real mother advising her not to have sex with her fiancé until after the engagement party and Buffy? She’d just have a fit!

0=0=0=0

**Outside the Governor’s Palace.**

Standing in the shadow of a doorway, Judith watched the gate of the Roman Governor’s Palace. Having recognised the man when she’d seen him murder Tahmid she’d gone to the palace and watched and waited. Her plan had been simple, she’d wait outside and attack him as he came out onto the street. But god hadn’t been on her side, when the Roman dog had stepped out onto the street it was in the company of several other soldiers, no doubt mercenaries in the pay of Rome.

Having followed the Roman spy all day, Judith had been frustrated every time that she’d tried to move in close enough to attack the man. He never seemed to be alone, there were always men near or around him. After awhile she began to suspect that somehow he knew she was after him, but she quickly rejected this thought as foolish. How could he possible know there was an assassin after him? She hadn’t even known for sure that she was going to kill him until a few hours ago and she’d spoken to no one since then. Eventually, Judith had given up on trying to stab the Roman in the street. Instead she’d decided to lie in wait for him outside the palace. When he returned, she’d simply step out of the shadows and kill him whatever the consequences would be to herself.

0=0=0=0

It was late in the morning when Judith saw the spy return to the palace; reaching under her robes she felt the reassuring hardness of the hilt of her long, curved dagger. Now the time had come to actually strike a blow for freedom, she started to doubt herself. Would she have the courage to go through with it? Suddenly she could see why Rafa and all the others were so scared of actually doing anything. Once she’d crossed the road and killed the spy there would be no turning back; in fact she’d be lucky to still be alive at sunset. If she was still alive she’d probably be sitting in a dungeon somewhere waiting on her turn to be crucified.

Taking a deep breath, Judith placed her right hand firmly on the hilt of her knife. Making her way across the narrow street she felt like she was in a daze, almost as if she was standing outside her body observing herself. Watching her target intently she didn’t at first notice the little group of people walk out the gate until a woman within the new group hailed the spy. Judith couldn’t believe her luck! There standing not five paces away was the foreign whore who’d started the riot in Temple Square. Realising she could at this one moment strike such a blow for freedom that it would echo around the world giving new hope to the oppressed wherever they might be; Judith pulled her knife from under her robes and advanced on the group of foreign oppressors.

Hearing the shriek of a woman, Dawn looked away from Ehsan (who’d she’d just bumped into on her way to see Varro) to see a woman clutching a knife coming towards her with hate filled eyes. Realising what was happening, Ehsan pushed Dawn to one side as he drew his sword and turned to face the female assassin. Drawing back his sword arm, Ehsan struck at the woman cutting off her dagger arm between the wrist and elbow. For a moment the would be assassin stood looking foolishly at her bloody stump. Her eyes grew wide as Ehsan thrust his sword into her belly hard enough so that a good six inches of blade stuck out from the woman’s back.

Pulling his sword from the terrorist, Ehsan watched her slump to the bloody cobbles as Roman soldiers rushed from the guard house just inside the gate to form a protective screen between Dawn’s party and the shocked crowd that looked on wide eyed at the blood upon the street.

“Are you alright, Princess?” Ehsan and his fellow guards hustled Dawn back inside the palace.

“Freaking Ishtar!” Dawn gasped, “What the Hades is wrong with people around here?” Dawn clung on to Ehsan for support, “I can’t even go out to see my boyfriend without someone trying to kill me!”

0=0=0=0


	10. Chapter 10

10.

**Headquarters of the People’s Front for Judea.**

The day had pasted and night had cast its shroud over The King Herod Memorial Home for Waifs and Orphans. The inmates of the home had been put to bed hours ago and locked into their dormitories. All that is except for a few of the older girls who were still out walking the streets collecting ‘donations’. The building was dark except for one small window in the cellar that showed a thin sliver of lamplight that glowed weakly into the night. In the cellar itself the members of the People’s Front were going through their plan for kidnapping Princess Roshan one last time.

“…now, this is the palace just off Palace Square,” Ezrah pointed with a soup ladle to the map hung up on the wall. “Our fighters will approach from Fish Street, under cover of darkness, and make our way to the north-western main drain. If questioned, we are sewage workers on our way to a conference.” Several fighters nodded at the cleverness of the planned deception, “Rafa, our glorious leader and founder of the People’s Front will be coordinating the assault at the drain head, though he himself will not be taking part in any of the action, due to his bad back.”

“Aren't you going to come with us?” Asked one of the fighters suspiciously.

“Solidarity, brother,” replied Rafa; the People’s Front had gone back to using the term ‘brother’ now all the female members (well, just Judith really) had been expelled. 

“Oh, yes,” nodded the suspicious fighter, “Solidarity, Rafa.” 

“Once in the sewer, timing will be of the essence,” Ezrah explained. “There’s a feast in the evening, so we must move fast, and don't wear your best sandals,” there was a low chuckle from the fighters at this. “Turning left here,” Ezrah tapped the map again, “we enter the Julius Caesar memorial sewer and from there, proceed directly to the hypocaust. This has just been re-tiled, so fighters, careful with those weapons. We will now be directly beneath Pilate's audience chamber itself. This is the moment for Habbakuk to get out his prong and dig his way out of the sewer and up through into the main audience chamber here,” once again Ezrah tapped the map with his soup ladle. “The foreign princess’ bedroom is here, near the end of this corridor,” again Ezrah gestured with his ladle. “Having grabbed the foreign whore, we inform Pilate that she is in our custody and forthwith issue our demands,” Ezrah looked around at the fighters expectantly, “any questions?” 

“What, exactly, are the demands?” Fighter Xerxes wanted to know.

“We're giving Pilate two days to dismantle the entire apparatus of the Roman Imperialist State,” Rafa explained, “and if he doesn't agree immediately, we execute her.” 

“Cut her head off?” Asked fighter Matthias the twin brother of the same Matthias who’d recently been stoned to death for blasphemy.

“Cut all her bits off,” Ezrah pointed out eagerly, “send ‘em back on the hour every hour, show them we're not to be trifled with.”

The fighters muttered their approval of the plan. 

“And of course,” Rafa continued, “we point out that they bear full responsibility when we chop her up and that we shall not submit to blackmail!”

“No blackmail!” Chanted the fighters. 

“They've bled us white, these Roman bastards,” Rafa sneered, “They've taken everything we had,” which to be honest hadn’t been much and hadn’t made Rome that much richer, “and not just from us, but from our fathers, and from our fathers' fathers.” 

“And from our fathers' fathers' fathers,” Shem pointed out.

“Yeah,” Rafa agreed with a curt nod. 

“And from our fathers' fathers' fathers' fathers,” continued Shem having got the bit between his teeth. 

“Yeah, all right, Shem,” Rafa sighed tiredly, “don't labour the point and what have they ever given us in return?! 

“The aqueduct?” Fighter Xerxes raised his hand slowly. 

“What?” Rafa’s caravan of thought came to a crashing halt as he peered into the semi-darkness of the cellar.

“The aqueduct,” Xerxes repeated. 

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” Rafa agreed reluctantly, “that’s true they did give us that.” 

“And the sanitation,” called another voice out of the gloom. 

“Oh, yeah, the sanitation,” Shem nodded his head, “remember what the city used to smell like?” 

“Yeah, all right” Rafa sighed again, “I'll grant you the aqueduct and the sanitation are two things that the Romans have done.” 

“And the roads,” Matthias the Un-stoned pointed out.

“Well, yeah, obviously the roads,” Rafa was beginning to feel that he was losing control of the meeting, “I mean, the roads go without saying, don't they? But apart from the sanitation, the aqueduct, and the roads…”

“Irrigation,” called a voice. 

“Medicine,” Xerxes added. 

“Education,” exclaimed another fighter. 

“Wine,” someone added to which everyone heartily agreed.

“Yeah,” laughed Ezrah, “that's something we'd really miss, if the Romans left, eh?” 

“Public baths,” the list went on and on. 

“And it's safe for a female impersonator to walk the streets at night now,” Shem pointed out with feeling.

“Yeah, they certainly know how to keep order,” Ezrah chortled, “Let's face it,” he sniggered, “They're the only ones who could in a place like this!”

“All right,” Rafa held up his hands to stop any other examples of Roman good works from being pointed out, “but apart from the sanitation, the medicine, education, wine, public order, irrigation, roads, a fresh water system, and public health, what have the Romans ever done for us?”

“Brought peace,” Xerxes suggested.

“Peace?” Rafa sneered, “Oh, fuck-off!”

0=0=0=0

**The Governor’s Palace.**

Sitting on the end of her bed, Dawn hiccupped and giggled.

“I’m drunk,” she told one of the servant girls who were helping her out of her dress.

After yet another attempt on her life (Dawn was beginning to suspect that someone was out to kill her), Dawn had eventually made her way to the garrison where she’d explained her plan about going to Rome. At first the young man had looked confused and more than a little puzzled. However, once Dawn had repeated everything to him twice he’d smiled and agreed to her plan. It was shortly after this that he’d invited her to a party or possibly an orgy; Dawn wasn’t a hundred percent sure which, her Latin still wasn’t that good. Eventually she’d shrugged, smiled and agreed to meet him at the palace around dusk.

“Yes Domina,” agreed the girl who was wiping the make up off Dawn’s face with a wet cloth.

Sighing, Dawn let the girls get on with their work as they removed her jewellery and brushed out her hair. The novelty of being allowed, in fact required, to wear make up had soon worn off and Dawn was more than glad to have the stuff scrubbed off her face. The party (or orgy) had been thrown by Pilate to celebrate his wife’s birthday. It’d started early in the evening and gone on until late, way late, later than her mother would have let her stay up, let alone ‘out’. The thought of her mom made Dawn feel sad for a moment and she sniffed pathetically as a tear started to roll down her freshly scrubbed cheek.

“I miss my mom,” Dawn turned a tear stained face to the girl who was brushing her hair.

“Of course you do, Domina,” the girl replied neutrally as she continued to brush out Dawn’s locks.

The party had started with a banquet, Dawn remembered lying on a couch as slaves brought around platters of strange exotic food. Wisely, Dawn hadn’t inquired too closely into what she was eating, however most of it tasted alright, but she was a little surprised that it wasn’t more spicy than it was. After the banquet came the entertainment. First on the list was a novelty juggler followed by a fire eater. 

After the fire eater and the juggler, came a troupe of dancing girls who put on a display of classical dancing. After this there was more food and of course more wine. While all this was going on Varro had been at her side talking to her politely and introducing her to all sorts of interesting people. None of whom Dawn would now be able to recognise let alone remember what they’d been called. 

All evening, Varro had introduced Dawn as his, ‘betrothed’ and everyone had congratulated Varro on his choice of bride and people told Dawn what a lucky young woman she was to be marrying such a handsome, rich and important man. By this time Dawn had drunk enough wine that she didn’t really notice what people were saying and she just smiled and concentrated on not saying anything stupid which meant she didn’t really say very much at all. By the time the second troupe of dancers appeared, Dawn was well on the way to believing she was actually going to marry Varro as soon as she’d met his parents.

After the dancers had departed, Dawn sat and watched in astonishment as nets were hung from the ceiling to make a small arena like area near the pool in the middle of the room. Wondering what was going on, she watched as a young woman climbed into the netted off area, in her hands she carried a sword and shield; Dawn started to get a nasty feeling about what was going to happen next. Her worst fears were confirmed as a large bear was released into the netted off area and the young woman attacked it with her sword. There was a lot of snarling and growling (and the bear made a lot of noise too) as the young woman cut the animal into bloody ruin. Clapping her hand across her mouth, Dawn managed not to throw-up as the gladiatrix thrust her sword into the bear’s belly and its blood splattered noisily onto the floor. 

* _By Ishtar!_ * Roshan groaned, apart from the occasional pithy comment, up until now she’d been strangely quiet, * _After going to the games and seeing real men chopping each other into bleeding chunks of flesh._ * The princess pointed out. * _You get upset over a bear?_ * Dawn could almost see Roshan shaking her head in disgust, before adding, * _Foolish Amer-i-can-girl._ *

Back in her bed chamber, Dawn lifted her arms above her head and let the girls take her dress off. As she stood naked by the bed her slaves started to rub her down with damp cloths. 

The third set of dancers were comprised of a dozen scantily clad young men and women who performed a very ‘explicit’ dance routine that had Dawn drinking more wine to cover her embarrassment. By the time the dancers had finished their act, Dawn was feeling hot and flushed as well as a little giddy and silly. Sitting on her couch she felt Varro’s lips brush her ear as he asked her if she wanted to come outside for some fresh air. Not trusting herself to actually speak, Dawn nodded her head and let Varro lead her out onto the balcony.

Sitting on a couch overlooking the city, Dawn didn’t complain when Varro started to kiss her neck and shoulders. Neither did she complain when he pushed her down onto her back and his hand found its way inside her dress and he started to caress her breasts. His hot lips were on hers as they kissed passionately, after all why should she complain they were engaged after all. 

Her heart beat wildly in her chest and her nipples felt painfully hard as Varro’s tongue explored the inside of her mouth. Feeling his hand leave her breast she moaned as he worked his way across her body and started to pull up the hem of her dress. Clutching hold of Varro’s shoulders, Dawn moaned with desire as he started to stroke her gently between her legs. A little drunken thought entered her mind as she squirmed under Varro’s fingers, weren’t they supposed to only be pretending to be engaged and if he was doing all these really sexy things to her did that mean she should suck his thingy in return?

“Oh my god!” Groaned Dawn as her girls put her nightdress on over her head, “I sucked his thingy! I’m such a slut!”

* _Yes you are,_ * Roshan sniggered, * _and after you’d complained about me too!_ *

“If you say so, Domina,” commented one of the slave girls.

It was at this point Dawn decided she didn’t really like these girls at all; in the morning she’d ask Nana to buy her a proper maid to take with her to Rome. Climbing into her bed, Dawn watched as the slave girls quickly tidied up and blew out all the lamps except one. Pulling the blankets and sheet up around her chin, Dawn rolled over onto her side and stared at the lamp watching the flame dance and flicker in the draft from the open window. 

* _Obviously Varro misunderstood when you told him you were only pretending to be engaged._ * Roshan pointed out with just a little too much amusement in her voice.

Dawn knew that her Latin came out accented so it was quite possible he’d misheard her or she’d said it wrong. To be honest half the time she didn’t know which of the three languages she knew she was actually speaking at any one time. So, who knew what she’d actually said or implied; she’d sort it all out in the morning being too tired now and still a little drunk. Slowly her eyes closed as she drifted off into a deep, wine induced, sleep while Roshan chuckled softly in the back of her head.

0=0=0=0

“Stop it Varro,” Dawn giggled sleepily as she felt her fiancé’s hands on her body again.

Suddenly Dawn felt herself being lifted up (this couldn’t be right) as her bedding was wrapped tightly around her body. Opening her eyes she saw several men in dark robes clutching knives and swords in here hands, she began to wish that Varro had been in her bed with her, he’d soon have dealt with her attackers.

* _SCREAM! You foolish Amer-i-can-girl!_ * Roshan was wide awake with her and seemed to have more of an idea of what was going on than Dawn did, * _Don’t you know when you’re being kidnapped!?_ *

“Get offa me you freaks!” Dawn struggled against her kidnappers, as she opened her mouth to scream; a rough, heavy, hand clamped itself over her mouth muffling her cry for help.

“If you don’t stop struggling and trying to scream,” said a voice in heavily accented Greek, next to her ear, “we won’t wait to chop you up we’ll do it right here.”

“Mmmph!” Dawn exclaimed as she looked wild eyed at her captor’s veiled face.

* _Perhaps you should do as he says,_ * Roshan advised.

Careless of where they put their hands two men picked Dawn up and carried her out into the main room where she saw two of her guards lying in pools of blood on the floor. Despite herself Dawn cried out and started to struggle again only to be cuffed on the side of the head by the man who was walking next to the men who were carrying her.

* _PIGS!_ * Roshan shouted indignantly, * _They shall all die slowly and painfully for that!_ *

“Look that’s your final warning,” the man with the bad Greek as he held a knife where she could see it, “one more peep outta you and I’ll slit ya throat.”

Whimpering quietly, Dawn stopped struggling and let herself be carried into the corridor outside her apartment. Swiftly and silently her kidnappers carried her down the corridor and around a corner where they came to a sudden halt. Trying to see why they’d stopped Dawn managed to turn her head a little until she saw another group of men in equally dark robes block the corridor.

0=0=0=0

“Campaign for Free Galilee,” announced a man in oddly accented Aramaic. 

“Oh!” Ezrah jumped away from the Free Galilee man and reached for his sword, “Erm, People’s Front for Judea,” he paused for a moment before adding, “officials.”

“Who?” queried Dirk the leader of the Free Galilee assault force, he’d never heard of the People’s Front. 

“What's your group doing here?” Ezrah asked relaxing a little after realising he wasn’t being confronted by the dreaded Judean Popular Front. 

“We're going to kidnap the foreign princess,” Dirk explained in a rapid whisper, “take her back to our base, issue demands and embarrass the Romans.” 

“So are we!” Ezrah exclaimed shocked that someone else could come up with the exact same plan as the People’s Front.

“What?” Dirk was as shocked as Ezrah, obviously there must be a double agent in his organisation giving away all their secrets.

“That's our plan!” Ezrah reiterated. 

“We were here first!” Dirk pointed out. 

“What do you mean?” Ezrah walked over to where Dawn was being held by two of his men, he sneered at Dirk, “We’ve got the Princess!”

“But we thought of it first!” Dirk complained as he saw the bound up princess in the clutches of two People’s Front men.

“Oh, yeah?” Smirked Ezrah triumphantly. 

“Yes,” Dirk balled his fists in frustration; this wasn’t supposed to be happening, “a couple of years ago!” The People’s Front fighters laughed derisively. “We did!” Dirk repeated like a small boy whose game had been spoilt. 

“Okay, come on,” Ezrah couldn’t keep the smile off his face, “You got all your demands all worked out, then?” 

“Of course we have,” Dirk replied petulantly. 

“What are they?” Ezrah taunted. 

“Well,” Dirk looked around for support from his own men, “I'm not telling you.” 

“Oh, come on,” Ezrah laughed in Dirk’s face, “Pull the other one.” 

“That's not the point!” Dirk’s hand moved to rest on the hilt of his sword, “We thought of it before you!” 

“Did not!” Ezrah snapped back. 

“Did so,” Dirk shot back. 

“Didn't,” Ezrah teased 

“We bloody did!” By now Dirk was almost jumping up and down in frustration, “You bastards!” Dirk poked Ezrah on the shoulder with his finger, “We've been planning this for months” 

“Well, tough titty for you, fish face,” Ezrah poked Dirk in the eye. 

“OH!” Dirk stepped back with his hand over his eye, he pulled his sword, “If that’s the way you want it!?”

The sound of swords being pulled from scabbards was quickly followed by the sound of steel on steel as the People’s Front and Free Galilee fighters attacked each other. Dumped unceremoniously onto the floor, Dawn struggled against her tightly wrapped bedding as men fought around her as she lay on the floor forgotten.

“Brothers! Brothers!” Cried Xerxes in a loud whisper, “We should be struggling together!” 

“We are!” Came a voice from out of the struggling mass of freedom fighters.

“We mustn't fight each other!” Xerxes tried to separate the struggling men, “Surely we should be united against the common enemy!”

“The Judean Popular Front!?” Everyone stopped fighting as they looked around for their most hated of all foes.

“No, no!” Xerxes almost sobbed with frustration, “The Romans!”

Dawn fought her way free of her bedding as fighting once again became general around her. Men groaned as swords or knives were thrust into their bodies. Blood squirted across the floor and up the walls as men died messily but surprisingly quietly. Feeling hot wet blood land on her face, Dawn pushed herself to her feet; she had to get away from these madmen. Seeing a discarded sword on the floor, she bent to pick it up just in time to avoid being beheaded by a wildly swung sword that missed its intended target by mere inches. Squealing in shock and fear Dawn stumbled away from the bloody scrum and lashed out blindly with her newly acquired sword. Feeling the blade bite into flesh, she struggled to control her stomach as blood sprayed over her arm and chest.

* _That’s the way to do it!_ * Cheered Roshan from the safety of Dawn’s mind.

Managing to get away from the fighting men, Dawn looked in panic along the corridor, she didn’t suspect it mattered which way she ran so she chose a direction and started running. Not having gone more than a couple of yards she heard more running footsteps coming towards her; thinking it might be more people wanting to kidnap her she stopped.

*What’d ever happened to just being carried off and chained up in a cave by vampires?* She asked herself and Roshan.

* _Vampires?_ * Roshan asked.

*I’ll explain later,* Dawn replied tiredly.

Turning Dawn retraced her steps just in time to see the last surviving freedom fighter run off into the darkness at the far end of the corridor. Standing amid a pile of bodies with a bloody sword in her hand, Dawn screamed as half a dozen heavily armed men rushed towards her.

“I didn’t do it!” Dawn claimed, thinking that some how someone would blame her for all the death and destruction.

“It’s the Princess!” Called a man with a transverse plume on his helmet, “Are you alright Princess?”

“Umm,” Dawn looked up at the tall man who was holding her by the shoulder, “Erm, I guess so…”

“After them, men!” The Roman officer called as his men thundered on down the corridor; he took the bloody sword from Dawn’s numbed hand thinking how he’d not want to get on her bad side. “Come along Princess,” he led Dawn gently along the corridor, “lets get you back to your room.”

* _Isn’t this exciting?_ * Asked the already dead girl; Dawn didn’t bother to answer.

As he led Dawn away from the bodies in the blood splattered corridor, the centurion glanced back over his shoulder. Foreign Princess’, he thought, definitely tougher than your average noble woman and brave too. Still standing there, covered in blood, after bravely killing all those insurgents!

0=0=0=0


	11. Chapter 11

11.

**Pilate’s Audience Chamber.**

Having been called to the governor’s audience chamber to discuss the unfortunate incident of the night before, Dawn found herself standing all by herself with only two tough looking Roman soldiers to keep her company. Turning at the sound of approaching feet, Dawn saw the governor of Judea arrive.

“Good mowning Pwincess,” the governor called as he approached, “I do hope you suffewed no lasting ill effects from youw adventuwes of last night?”

* _What a funny man,_ * Roshan giggled as Dawn fought to keep her face straight.

“Yes thank-you, Governor,” Dawn replied remembering to be princess-like and not laugh at the governor’s speech impediment, “I’m fine.”

“Nevew the less,” Pilate led Dawn across the chamber until they were standing on the steps of the dais that led to where his throne stood, “it must have been vewy fwightening for yow. I heawd two of your guawds were killed.”

* _‘Vewy fwightening’,_ * Roshan tittered unhelpfully.

*Titter ye not!* Dawn warned.

“Yeah,” Dawn nodded as she remembered seeing some slaves mopping up the blood from the floor earlier, “it was a very fwight…sorry, frightening experience but I’m used to it now.”

“Used to it?” Pilate asked with a frown.

“Being kidnapped,” Dawn explained, “back home it used to happen every couple of weeks or so.”

* _You didn’t tell me about this,_ * Roshan said in surprise.

*Later,* Dawn pleaded, *now just be quiet, PLEASE!*

“It did?” Pilate’s frown grew deeper for a moment, “How tewwibly tiwesome for you.”

“You learn to live with it,” Dawn shrugged, “you know this wasn’t so bad,” apart from all the dead bodies she thought to herself, “normally I end up in some damp cave somewhere chained to the wall, no biggy.”

“No ‘biggy’?” Pilate asked more than a little aghast.

“No,” again Dawn shrugged and gave the governor a sad smile, “you see my big sister always used to be there to rescue me.”

“Ah,” the governor nodded his head sagely, “this would be the sister who you think is fighting as a gladiatwix in Wome?”

“Yeah,” Dawn agreed.

“I see,” Pilate went silent as he thought about something, after a moment or two he looked at Dawn and smiled. “Anyway, I asked you to come here this mowning so you could see Wo-man justice in action.” He turned to one of the soldiers who were standing near, “Bwing in the pwisoner.”

Dawn heard Roshan trying to stifle a giggle in her head but only half succeeding. After a moment or two’s wait, two soldiers appeared led by a centurion, the soldiers dragged a bruised and beaten man between them

“Hail Caesar!” Called the Centurion as the little party stopped in front of Dawn and the governor.

“Hail!” Pilate replied; Dawn kept quiet.

“Only one survivor, sir,” the centurion gestured to the prisoner who was cowering on his knees in front of the governor.

“I see,” Pilate nodded his head slowly, “Thwow him to the floow.”

“Sorry sir?” The centurion gave Pilate a puzzled look as Roshan’s laughter echoed around inside Dawn’s head.

“Thwow him to the floow,” Pilate repeated.

“Right you are sir!” The centurion gestured to his men who presently threw the prisoner to the floor.

“Aagh!” Cried the prisoner.

“Hmm,” Pilate rubbed his chin with a thumb and forefinger, “Now, what is youw name, Jew?”

“Xerxes, sir,” Fighter Xerxes replied with all the dignity he could muster, which considering the circumstances wasn’t much.

“Xewxes, eh?” Pilate nodded thinking it was an odd name for a Jew.

“No, no, sir ‘Xerxes’, sir,” he corrected and received a slap from the centurion for his insolence.

* _Yes!_ * Dawn could almost feel Roshan punch the air when she saw the prisoner being hit, * _Hit him again! HARDER!_ *

“Aah!” Repeated Xerxes.

“The little wascal has spiwit,” Pilate chuckled as he turned to Dawn and smiled.

“Has what, sir?” Asked the centurion.

“Spiwit,” Pilate repeated.

“Yes. He did, sir,” The centurion acknowledged.

“No, no,” Pilate realised the centurion had misunderstood him, he often found that people did, but he didn’t know why. “Spiwit,” Pilate explained, “Um, bwavado. A touch of dawing-do.”

“Oh, yes,” the centurion agreed, senior officers would always be a mystery to him, “at about the eleventh hour sir.”

“So,” Pilate stood over the prisoner imperiously, “you dawe to waid us?”

“What, sir?” Xerxes was beginning to think that this was all some cunning new form of psychological torture that the Roman’s had devised; if it was he preferred thumbscrews. 

“Stwike him, Centuwion, vewy woughly!” Pilate ordered losing patience with the prisoner.

* _YES!_ * Roshan agreed eagerly, * _Vewy woughly!_ *

It was Dawn’s turn to stifle a giggle.

“Aaah!” Cried Xerxes.

“And throw him to the floor, sir?” The centurion asked hopefully.

“Oh, yes, by all means,” Pilate nodded with a smile, “thwow him to the floow, please.” 

At a nod from the centurion the two soldiers picked Xerxes up from the floor only to throw him back down a moment later.

“Now, Jewish wapscallion,” Pilate laughed, “what shall I do with you?” He turned to Dawn, “Pwincess,” he nodded to her, “he and his confedewates were going to chop you up into little pieces. It seems only fitting that you chose his punishment.”

* _Have his balls cut off with a blunt knife,_ * Roshan suggested helpfully.

“Oh!” Dawn hadn’t expected this, “Um I don’t know?”

* _What do you mean, you don’t know?_ * Roshan demanded, * _This dog and his vile gang were going to kill you!_ *

“Erm,” Dawn said uncertainly, “couldn’t you condemn him to the galleys or something?” 

* _Yes, yes!_ * Roshan chortled, * _That’s better, have him slowly worked to death and then sent to feed the fishes!_ *

*Please, Roshan,* Dawn begged, *Please be quiet.*

* _Huh!_ * Roshan snorted derisively. 

“Sowwy,” Pilate shook his head sadly, “can’t do that any more,” he explained further, “it was decided that was ‘cwuel and unusual punishment’! You’ll have to choose something else.”

“Erm,” Dawn twisted the ends of her belt between her hands, “the arena?” 

* _Even better,_ * Roshan gave a low chuckle, * _Have him torn apart and fed to wolves._ *

Pilate shook his head ever so slightly.

“Oh!” Dawn was tortured by indecision, “I don’t know,” she said helplessly, “you choose!”

* _Whimp!_ * The princess muttered darkly.

“As you wish,” Pilate nodded before turning to look at the prisoner again. “As it’s youw first offence, Jew,” Pilate began, “I’ve decided to let you off with cwucifixion!”

* _Excellent!_ * Roshan cheered, * _Now why didn’t I think of that?_ *

“Oh thank-you sir!” Xerxes grovelled, anything was better than this subtle and cruel torture.

“Cwucifixion!?” Dawn gasped.

“Yes,” Pilate nodded as the Centurion and the soldiers dragged the prisoner away, “it’s the only way to get thought to them y’know,” he sighed sadly, “nail them up I say, nail some sense into them!”

* _I like this man,_ * Dawn could feel Roshan smile, * _He knows how to treat these dogs!_ *

“But…” Dawn stood there transfixed.

“It’s the only way to be sure,” Pilate pointed out. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Pwincess, I have work to do, pwessing matters of state, you understand?”

0=0=0=0

**The Jerusalem Slave Market later that day.**

Standing at the edge of the busy slave market, Dawn looked up and read the words on the sign above the gate; ‘Marcus and Spencus, Purveyors of the Finest Slaves’ it read. After the previous night’s excitement, Dawn had found it easy enough to persuade Naheed that she needed a new slave to be her maid for the coming journey to Rome. Listening to Dawn’s reasoning, Naheed had eventually agreed with her and had made arrangements to go to the slave market that very afternoon.

Dawn had to admit to not feeling exactly guilty about actually buying someone; she reasoned that any girl she bought would be better looked after than if she’d been sold to someone else. Plus she could always free the girl later, so it wasn’t really that bad, was it? The thought made Dawn frown, there were so many important decisions she had to make since she’d turned up in the past. Deciding whether to free a slave girl was, quite honestly, way down on her list of priorities. There were much more important things to think about, like; why were people trying to kidnap her and which would-be assassin to stab first and had she really sucked her boyfriend’s thingy last night or was that a dream and if so, why was she dreaming about sucking her boyfriend’s thingy?

“Can I help you Ladies?” Asked a man who looked and sounded like a second hand chariot salesman, “Some dancing girls, perhaps?” He smarmed, “Or maybe something more masculine for these cold Judean nights?”

“I’m looking for a maid for the Princess,” Naheed replied looking imperiously down her nose at the salesman.

“Royalty, is it?” The salesman (Spencus as it happened) smiled widely, “I’m sure we have something to suit, if you’d just come with me?”

The two women followed Spencus between the cages where the slaves sat or stood waiting to be sold. Looking around herself curiously, Dawn looked at the slaves faces as most of them were naked and she’d always been told it was rude to stare; she’d expected the slaves to look fearful and generally downtrodden. While some did look at her with fear in their eyes, others seemed quite indifferent to her presence.

“A maid you say?” Spencus asked as they came to an area where the cages were full of naked young women and girls.

“Indeed,” Naheed replied haughtily; Dawn could tell she didn’t like the salesmen.

“Any other requirements?” Spencus asked wringing his hands together obsequiously.

“She needs to be properly trained and have a good grasp of Greek and a little Latin.” Naheed explained.

“Greek and Latin, hmm,” Spencus nodded his head slowly, “I’ll see what I’ve got out the back.”

“Princess!” Naheed called as she sat down on a stool, “Don’t wander off, dear.”

“No Nana,” Dawn called back as she moved between the cages fascinated by what she was seeing.

Desperately Dawn tried to think back to long forgotten history lessons, from what little she could remember, slavery was the rule in the ancient world rather than the exception. It was a fact of life and one she’d need to get used to. Stopping in front of a cage she looked at the dark haired teenage girl sitting with her arms wrapped round her chest and her legs pulled up under her.

“What’s your name, girl?” Dawn asked quietly; the girl looked up and their eyes met, “Oh Ishtar!” Dawn gasped as her hand flew to her mouth and she took a step away from the cage.

Despite the cruel looking metal gag that covered the teenager’s lower face and prevented her from speaking, Dawn would have recognised the girl anywhere.

“NANA!” Dawn called urgently, “Nana, come quick!”

Within moments Naheed bustled over to her followed rapidly by Spencus; turning to her governess Dawn pointed to the cage containing the girl.

“I want that one!” Dawn announced with all the vehemence she could muster.

“You sure?” Naheed replied uncertainly, “She doesn’t look very…” Nana paused for a moment trying to pick her words carefully, “…nice?”

“I don’t care,” Dawn affirmed as she continued to point at the girl, “I want that one.”

“Weeell…” Naheed said indecisively.

“If you’ll excuse me for saying,” Spencus stepped forward; from long experience he knew how to off load unwanted stock onto unsuspecting foreigners. “I know she doesn’t look like much now, and she does need a little training and a few beatings would improve her manners, which was why we had to put the gag on her, but…”

“But?” Naheed looked down her nose at the salesman again; he was the sort of man she’d kill without a second thought; to be honest she didn’t think she’d waste a first thought on him.

“Clean her up, feed her a little,” Spencus explained, “once you’ve trained her she’ll follow you like a faithful hound…and she’s going cheap.”

“Cheap, you say?” Naheed always had an eye for a bargain and her charge seemed very insistent on buying the girl. “How cheap?”

“One hundred,” Spencus started to haggle.

“One hundred!?” Naheed gasped, “Too much, she’s not worth fifty.”

“Seventy-five,” Dawn announced forcefully, realising what was going on.

“Sold!” Spencus replied quickly before Naheed could say anything else, “Do you want to take her now or shall I send her to your dwelling later?”

“Clean her up and send her to the governor’s palace,” Nana instructed the salesman, “tell the guards she’s a delivery for Princess Roshan,” Nana paused for a moment to look at the slave girl, “And take that thing out of her mouth and put some clothes on her.”

“There’ll be a tenth delivery charge,” Spencus pointed out.

“Oh,” Naheed sighed crossly as she added another seven and a half coins to the pile she’d already give the salesman, “daylight robbery’s what I call it!”

“Pleasure doing business with you Domina,” Spencus smiled, “come back soon…have a nice day.”

“Come a long, Princess,” Naheed called as she started to head for the exit.

“Coming,” Dawn called over her shoulder as she stepped up to the cage, “don’t worry, Cordy,” Dawn whispered so only the girl could hear her, “you’ll soon be safe.”

0=0=0=0


	12. Chapter 12

12.

**Dawn’s Bedchamber.**

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Dawn let her shoulders slump and sighed long and hard. The three new slave girls had helped her bathe and change into something less formal before scurrying away to wherever it was that they went between the times she needed them. Picking at the material of the simple dress she was wearing, Dawn really wished she could dress in her old jeans and t-shirt; she found herself wishing for a lot of things. She wished she was at home and her mom and sister were there to give her a big hug. She wished she didn’t have to act all grown up all the time; being grown-up was way overrated she told herself, she wanted to be fourteen again and not have to handle all the stuff she was having to handle now.

Getting up Dawn wandered over to her balcony and gazed out over the city without really seeing it. She gave a heart felt sigh; Varro, now there was a problem, she’d wanted a boyfriend and had somehow ended up with a fiancé. Alright he was way handsome an’ all, but did she really want to marry him (as it was looking increasingly likely that she’d have to) and wasn’t fourteen too young to be getting married? Dawn really wished her sister was here to get her out of the trouble she’d got herself into like she always used to.

But Buffy, at least the Buffy she’d grown up with, was dead. Killed by Glory at the tower; in fact, Dawn reminded herself, wasn’t she dead too? Having jumped from the tower there was no way she could have survived. Of course there was this other Buffy, the Buffy who was this gladiatrix girl, Dawn wondered what she’d be like; surely she couldn’t be too different from her sister. But what if she was? What if she didn’t know who she was? What if she hadn’t been given the same memories that her real sister had been given, what then? What if she was all twisted up inside from being forced to fight in the arena; worse still what if she liked fighting in the arena?

A knock at her door dragged her out of these useless musings.

“Yes!” Dawn called and watched as the door opened to reveal one of her guards.

“Princess,” the guard bowed his head to Dawn, “This…” he pushed Cordelia roughly into the room.

“Hey who’d d’you think you’re pushing around?” Cordelia demanded as she stumbled into the chamber.

“…was delivered for you,” the guard finished as he eyed Cordelia coldly.

“Oh, thank-you,” Dawn pushed herself away from the windowsill and studied Cordelia for a moment, she looked back at the guard and smiled her thanks “yes, you can go now.”

“You’re sure, Princess?” The guard asked hesitantly, “I can stay or wait just outside the door if you like.”

“No,” Dawn smiled again the man was obviously worried that Cordelia would do something to his Princess, “I’ll be fine, I’m sure Cordelia won’t attack me or anything.”

Reluctantly the guard turned and left the room closing the door behind him.

“Hey!” Cordelia advanced into the room a little as she rubbed the red finger marks on her arm where the guard had held her, “Where am I? Who are you? How do you know my name? What am I doing here? Where are my father’s lawyers?”

“Jerusalem, Dawn Summers, I just do, I don’t know and again, I don’t know,” Dawn replied; she’d quickly realised that this Cordelia wasn’t the Cordelia she remembered; why couldn’t life be just a little less complicated?

“What? Dawn who?” Cordelia walked over and sat on Dawn’s bed, facing Dawn, “And what’s this thing ‘round my neck.”

Crossing the room towards Cordelia, Dawn saw what the older girl was wearing around her neck; it was a narrow metal collar with writing engraved on it.

“Hold on,” Dawn instructed as she bent to examine the collar and read what had been engraved into the metal, she smiled, “It says,” Dawn couldn’t help looking up into Cordelia’s eyes and grinning, “‘I am the property of Princess Roshan, return me and you will be rewarded’.”

“WHAT!?” Cordelia screeched as she tried to pull the collar off, but it wouldn’t budge; giving up on tugging at the collar she looked at Dawn suspiciously, “Who’s this Roshan bitch anyway?”

“That’d be me,” Dawn announced haughtily, “and in future it’s probably best not to refer to your mistress as ‘bitch’.”

“Mistress!?” Cordelia jumped to her feet, placed her hand on Dawn’s throat and pushed her against the wall, “Tell me what the hell’s going on here?”

“Let go!” Dawn pushed at Cordelia’s hand but couldn’t loosen her grip, panicking Dawn hurled a threat into Cordelia’s face, “I’ll call my guards and have you beaten!”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Cordelia sneered.

“GUARDS!” Dawn screamed at the top of her lungs.

In an instant the guard who’d brought Cordelia into the room burst in, he saw what was happening and grabbed hold of Cordelia by the arm and dragged her off his Princess. Lifting the riding whip that hung from the wrist of his free hand he brought it down across Cordelia’s back.

“OWW!” Cordelia screamed as the whip left a line of fire across her back; angry at being attacked Dawn let her guard hit Cordelia a half a dozen more times

“ENOUGH!” Dawn called before the guard could bring the whip down on Cordelia’s back again.

“Princess?” The guard looked at Dawn questioningly.

“I’ll be alright now,” Dawn rubbed at her throat where Cordelia had grabbed her, “I think Cordelia has learnt her lesson.”

“If you say so Princess,” the guard replied gruffly, not pointing out that this was more or less what Dawn had said moments before the attack.

“Thank-you,” Dawn nodded, thankful that the man had disobeyed her orders and waited outside her door, “if you’d just wait outside the door again, please?”

“As you command, Princess,” with a small bow the guard left the room.

Alone together once more, Dawn looked at Cordelia and felt the anger rise in her chest, ungrateful bitch! How dare she attack her mistress? Perhaps she should call back the guard to give her a proper beating and… Realising what she was thinking, Dawn took a deep breath and tried to control her racing heart and the thoughts in her head.

“Listen up, Cordelia Chase,” Dawn snapped, “and listen good, your life, for what its worth, which by the way is about seventy-five shekels, may depend on what I say…”

Dawn spent the next twenty minutes or so explaining what had happened to her over the last couple of months and what she thought was happening.

“…so,” Dawn smiled; the two young women were now sitting on the bed together holding hands, “how did you die?”

“W-what?” Cordelia was still in shock from all she’d seen and heard.

“Like I say,” Dawn replied gently, “you die in your own world and end up here.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Cordelia pointed out.

“Whatever,” Dawn shrugged and waited for Cordelia to collect her thoughts and speak again.

“Oz and I where looking for Willow and Xander,” Cordelia explained slowly, “they’d been captured by Spike and he was holding them in the old factory.”

“Oh, yeah,” Dawn nodded, “I remember something about that.”

“Well,” Cordelia continued, still a little stunned, “Oz smelt Willow and we sorta followed his nose ‘til we found them locked in a basement or something and-and…” Cordelia’s voice faded away to nothing as a look of utter despair crossed her face quickly followed by a look of total rage. “That little tramp!” Cordelia spat the words out.

“What?” Dawn backed away from the older girl and prepared to call her guard just in case Cordelia took it into her head to attack her again. 

“Willow Rosenberg, the little whore!” Cordelia snarled, “How dare she!?”

“Dare she?” Dawn relaxed a little thinking that as long as Cordelia’s anger was directed at someone else she was probably safe.

“She was kissing Xander, the bastard! How-how…” Cordelia’s words stuck in her throat as she remembered what had happened next, “I-I saw them kissing an-and I turned around and…”

“And?” Dawn prompted, she knew Cordelia and Xander had split up, but no one had told her why (as usual).

“I was running up the stairs,” Cordelia sounded confused and uncertain, “they-they gave way and I fell and I-I can’t remember anything after that.”

“That’s when you died,” Dawn explained as she put her arms around Cordelia’s shoulders and let her cry for awhile, “Do you remember what happened next, like when you woke up?”

“I-I was in that cage thing with that gag in my mouth,” Cordelia pulled herself away from Dawn, dabbed at her eyes with the hem of her dress and forced a smile. “So, you bought me?”

“Yeah,” Dawn nodded, “I needed a maid.”

“Cool,” Cordelia sighed, “like what do I do?”

“Don’t call me ‘Dawn or Dawnie’ for one,” Dawn said warningly, “apart from that you help me dress and put on my make-up and stuff like that.”

“Get outta here!” Cordelia stood up her tears of a minute ago completely forgotten, “What am I, your slave or something?”

“Well,” Dawn shrugged, “yeah actually.”

“What?” Cordelia gasped as reality caught up with her and bit her on the butt.

“Look,” Dawn jumped to her feet, “I thought I’d explained all this…”

“What all that crap about dying and coming back in Roman times?” Cordelia scoffed, “This is all some silly little spell that, that bitch Rosenberg has thought up to get back at me, I’ll…”

“SHUT-UP!” Dawn yelled, “Get with the program, Cordelia! Here _I’m_ the Princess and if you don’t like it I can always have one of my soldiers beat you ‘til you do, understand?”

“Beat…?” Slowly it was beginning to dawn on Cordelia that she might be in more trouble that she’d at first suspected; what if this wasn’t one of Rosenberg’s sneaky, magic tricks what if… “Oh-my-god!” Cordelia gasped as the truth finally hit her, “this is really real…”

“Yes,” Dawn replied as firmly as she knew how.

“I’m really here aren’t I?” Cordelia asked, “And you bought me at a slave market.”

“Finally,” Dawn looked heavenwards and thanked any gods that might be listening for helping her to get through Cordelia’s thick skull.

Watching, Cordelia slump down on the bed again, Dawn wondered how come it was taking Cordelia so long to accept things as they really were. When she’d come into this world it had been to the accompaniment of death, robbery and attempted rape. From what Dawn could gather, Cordelia had had it relatively easy, no one had tried to kill or rape her, so what was she complaining about?

0=0=0=0

**Later that Night.**

Lying in bed staring at the ceiling, Dawn was beginning to regret her decision to let Cordelia sleep in her room instead of having her sleep in the slave quarters. Closing her eyes, she listened to Cordelia’s snoring. After finally getting through to her that she really was in the past and that there didn’t seem to be anyway of getting back to the world they both knew; Cordelia had slowly begun to accept that her life had changed, she’d even started to brush out Dawn’s hair for her.

Having her guards find a mattress and put it in her room, Dawn had let Cordelia sleep on the floor at the foot of her bed. It was the best she could do for now and Dawn promised that as soon as everything was settled and they were in their new home (wherever that might be) she’d arrange for Cordelia to have a room of her own. It’d been about at this point that Cordelia had pointed out that as the ‘slave’ of a rich and important young woman like Dawn, she’d need some new and better clothes. Admitting that the cheap grey cotton dress that she was dressed in now wasn’t exactly what the servant of a princess should be seen wearing; Dawn agreed to buy Cordelia some new clothes. The irony of the ‘mistress’ promising the ‘slave’ all these cool things wasn’t lost on Dawn and for a minute back there she’d almost called her soldiers and let them take turns beating Cordelia with their whips. But she hadn’t because…because it would be wrong and Dawn was sure she’d soon show Cordelia who was boss…without having to resort to having her whipped.

0=0=0=0

**Dawn’s Bedchamber the following morning.**

“Hey,” Dawn felt someone shake her shoulder roughly, “where’s the shower?”

“W-what?” Dawn mumbled as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

“The shower, Dawnie?” Cordelia’s voice went on persistently, “Where is it and have you seen the facilities? It’s like just a hole in a stone slab, it’s like, yuck!”

Almost fully awake now, Dawn sat up in bed, turning her head she eyed Cordelia disdainfully.

* _You should punish her for calling you ‘Dawnie’,_ * Roshan said with a yawn.

*I should?* Dawn replied uncertainly.

* _Yes,_ * Roshan nodded their head firmly.

Lashing out with her hand, Dawn slapped Cordelia on the arm leaving a red mark.

“OW!” Cordelia jumped away from Dawn as she rubbed the bruise that was rapidly appearing on her arm, “What was that for?”

“You called me Dawnie,” Dawn explained as she climbed out of bed.

“But we’re alone…” Cordelia started to recover from the shock of being hit and was beginning to sound belligerent again.

“And if you’d forgotten and called me that when Nana or one of the guards could hear?” Dawn stood up and rearranged her nightdress.

“Who the hell’s ‘Nana’?” Cordelia wanted to know as she cleverly changed the subject.

“My Governess…” Dawn replied as she headed for the ‘facilities’.

“You have a governess?” Cordelia laughed, “How lame…”

“Nana is not lame!” Dawn turned on Cordelia and raised her hand to strike her disobedient slave; she only stopped herself from actually hitting Cordelia when she saw the older girl flinch away from her. “Look,” Dawn sighed as she slowly started to relax, “I’ll explain later, I’ve gotta pee. While I’m doing that get the slave girls to run a bath for me.”

“Okay,” Cordelia eyed Dawn warily, “where…?”

“You’ll find them hovering outside,” Dawn explained as she hopped from foot to foot.

“Okay,” Cordelia nodded as she watched Dawn sprint for the ‘facilities’, “bath? Slave girls? Jeez what next?”

0=0=0=0

Sitting on the cold marble toilet seat, Dawn sighed with relief while at the same time cursing herself for forgetting to have someone warm the seat up for her; she sniggered to herself as a thought struck her, that could be a job for Cordelia. 

* _You’re going to have to beat her more,_ * Roshan observed.

“But…” Dawn replied aloud.

* _If you don’t, Nana will,_ Roshan pointed out, * _and we both know what that’s like._ *

“But she’s Cordelia,” Dawn tried to explain, “she can’t help being the way she is,” Dawn paused for a moment as she thought of something. “Hey look I promises to beat her if what I’ve got planed doesn’t work.”

* _And that is?_ * Dawn could clearly hear the scepticism in Roshan’s voice.

“Bribery,” Dawn smiled.

0=0=0=0


	13. Chapter 13

13.

**Dawn’s apartment.**

Walking out of Dawn’s bedroom, Cordelia glanced around the big room that she’d only vaguely registered the previous evening. Sure enough she found three young girls in off white cotton dresses ‘hovering’ just outside the door of Dawn’s room.

“You!” Cordelia pointed at the oldest looking girl figuring that she’d be in charge, “You’re a slave girl right?”

“Y-yes, D-domina,” it was obvious that the unfortunate girl didn’t know what to make of Cordelia and was erring on the side of caution by calling her ‘Domina’.

“Run Dawn’s bath,” Cordelia ordered; the girl just stood and looked at her stupidly, “Well?”

“I’m sorry, d-domina,” stammered the girl fearfully, “I-I…”

“Crap!” Cordelia exclaimed aloud, “I-I meant the Princess, run the princess’ bath,” Cordelia glared at the girl when she didn’t move, “NOW!”

Not knowing what she was supposed to do next, Cordelia just stood and watched as one girl disappeared through a door while the other two started to scoop the water lilies out of the pond in the middle of the floor.

“What the hell?” Cordelia muttered to herself but decided not to say anything, instead she sighed to herself, “Whatever.”

So, Cordelia smiled to herself, Buffy had a sister, not that she could remember her and the weird story that the kid had given her, well that was just…just what? The kid seemed totally convinced of what she was saying, but…but what she said couldn’t really be true could it? The night before when Dawn had explained everything it’d all sounded so reasonable, but now…now as she watched young women pour buckets of hot water into the pond. It suddenly didn’t make much sense. If this was heaven or some sort of afterlife shouldn’t there be better plumbing?

“I know what this is!” Cordelia smiled broadly to herself, “This is a dream…I’m in a coma or something and I’m dreaming all this!”

Remembering falling through the rotten old stairs after finding the forever cursed Xander Harris in the arms of that skinny little tramp Rosenberg, Cordelia couldn’t remember what exactly happened next. She did remember waking up in a cage with this metal gag thing in her mouth, but that could all be part of the dream. It was so simple when she thought about it; she’d obviously hit her head when she’d fallen. Now she was in a coma lying in a hospital bed dreaming all this; although why she was dreaming that she was the slave of Buffy Summers’ non-existent little sister she wasn’t quite sure. She’d have to ask her therapist about that the next time she saw her, maybe she had some issues about being an only child.

Noticing that the girls had stopped bringing buckets of water and emptying them into what she now saw was actually a small swimming pool. Cordelia walked over to the pool got down on one knee and tested the temperature of the water.

“What are you trying to do?” Cordelia snapped at the slave girls who all took a step away from her. “Are you trying to scold the princess? Bring cold water, NOW!”

This time one of the girls bent and switched on what looked like a tape, cold water gushed into the pool..

“Better,” Cordelia admitted after testing the water again; this was fun, she told herself, she had people to boss around again.

Walking back to Dawn’s room she knocked on the door.

“Hey Daw…” Cordelia managed to stop herself from using Dawn’s name, she muttered to herself instead, “Little brat,” she rubbed the bruise on her arm, the kid was stronger than she looked, “Erm,” Cordelia started again, “Princess you’re bath’s ready.”

Almost immediately the door opened and Dawn strode out of her room, again a little uncertain of what she was supposed to do, Cordelia scurried after the fast moving girl. Halting on the edge of the pool, Dawn dipped her toe into the water and nodded her head approvingly at Cordelia.

“Just right,” she announced as she pulled her night dress off over her head and held it out towards Cordelia.

Standing with her mouth slightly open in shock, Cordelia couldn’t drag her eyes away from the sight of Dawn’s naked body.

“W-what?” Cordelia blinked her eyes as Dawn shook her hand with the nightdress in it at her, “Oh! Right…” Cordelia realised that she was supposed to take the nightdress.

Screwing the nightdress up into a ball, Cordelia watched as Dawn climbed into the pool and pushed off from the poolside and glided through the water to the other end. Realising that this must be some sort of morning ritual, Cordelia started to look around for some towels for when Dawn would want to get out. If she was stuck in this dream she better start working with it, perhaps she’d be able to alter it so she’d be the Princess and the bratty girl would be her slave. Looking over at the slave girl who seemed to be in charge, Cordelia caught her eye.

“Towels?” she asked quietly, the girl nodded and slipped away, hopefully to collect some towels.

0=0=0=0

**Ehsan at the brothel.**

After kissing Helene’s soft, pink lips, Ehsan sighed, buckled on his sword belt and headed for the door. Today he’d managed to get some time off, after he’d reported to the tribune in charge of the Peculiaris Extraordinarii at the garrison, he’d made his way down to his favourite brothel. As it was still only midmorning he’d had the pick of the whores and had chosen Helene, a pretty Greek girl who he’d used before. After spending half an hour in Helene’s welcoming embrace, Ehsan had reluctantly left the girl and decided he’d better get back to the palace before he was missed.

“Hades!” He gagged as he walked out of the brothel and into the sunlight; as usual the stench of sweaty human bodies, sewage and livestock came to his nose; he wondered what the city had smelt like before the Romans had started to dig drains and sewers, just two of the many things the locals should be grateful for, but weren’t.

Turning his feet towards the palace, Ehsan started to make his way along the crowded streets; the sun would be at its zenith in an hour or so and he wanted to be back at the palace well before then. Striding along and pushing himself through the late morning crowd, he didn’t at first notice the shabbily dressed man following him. However when he stopped at a stall in Palace Square to buy himself some fruit he noticed the man in ragged robes dodge behind a stall about ten paces away. Thinking that no one would be so stupid as to try and rob him so close to palace and its guards, Ehsan paid for his orange and walked on. He was just starting to peel his fruit when a different man bumped into him.

“Sorry,” Ehsan smiled up at the man apologetically; he’d been distracted and hadn’t been looking where he was going, but that was no excuse for the man to punch him! “Hey!” Ehsan cried out as he sat on the cobbled surface of the square and looked up at his assailant, “What’d you do…!”

Before he had a chance to finish what he was saying, several more men appeared and started to surround him as he sat there rubbing his jaw. It was then that Ehsan started to notice details, like; all the men were wearing the same dark blue robes and they all seemed to be fingering the knives thrust into the red sashes they wore around their waists far too eagerly.

“Cack!” Realising that this wasn’t an ordinary street mugging, Ehsan turned onto his hands and knees and quickly crawled off under a market stall.

Giving a cry of alarm the blue robbed bandits chased off after him, some tried to follow him under the stall while others ran around it trying to surround him. Turning on one of his pursuers, Ehsan rammed his booted foot into his face as hard as he could. The man screamed and clutched at his flattened nose. Hurling himself at the injured man, Ehsan wrestled with him and pulled the knife from his sash. Now armed with one of his attacker’s knives (foolishly he’d left his sword at the palace) Ehsan crawled out from under the stall and jumped to his feet.

Realising that they’d been out-manoeuvred the surviving blue robes turned to face their prey. Standing in the middle of the rapidly emptying walkway between stalls, Ehsan weighted up his chances. For years he’d been faced with fighting bigger, stronger, demonic foes. However, he was an athletic young man, naturally strong, who’d always been able to more than hold his own against more mundane foes. He had a knife now, but there were at least seven of these robed bastards. Doing the sensible thing, Ehsan turned on his heels and started to run!

With a cry of alarm the blue robed baddies chased after Ehsan drawing their knives and brandishing them in the air. Coming to the end of a row of stalls, Ehsan skidded around the corner on one foot, changed direction and started to run for the gates of the palace with the insurgents hard on his heels.

“HELP!” Ehsan cried out as he approached the palace; glancing over his shoulder he saw that the blue robes were gaining on him, “Shit!” he cursed as the sound of the enemy’s sandalled feet got closer and closer.

0=0=0=0

Standing in the gate way to the palace, Centurion Spurius looked out at the market set out in the square before him. Today he was off duty so he wasn’t wearing his armour; he was however wearing his military belt over his red tunic, from which hung his sword and knife. Patting the purse that lay hidden inside his tunic he smiled; his wife would be arriving from Rome today or tomorrow and he always liked to greet her with some small token of his affection. Smiling to himself he thought of another not so small token of his affection that he’d give her as soon as he got her to his quarters. Walking towards the market he noticed a commotion, his hand went slowly to his sword as he heard people shout and cry out in alarm; he sighed tiredly.

“Oh no, not another riot, surely,” he glanced up at the sun, it was getting on towards the sixth hour, “not even this lot could start a riot so early.”

Pausing to see what was going on, he had no wish to walk into the middle of a street battle without his armour and a shield on his arm; Spurius noticed a man in a tunic and long trousers running towards him. Shifting his eyes towards the men who appeared to be chasing him the Roman sighed.

“Poor bastard,” Spurius muttered, “probably going to get stoned to death for eating shell fish or something.”

It was only as the running man got closer that Spurius realised he recognised him, it was Ehsan, his contact from the previous night.

“Damn!” Cursed Spurius as he drew his sword and yelled, “OVER HERE YOU ARSE!” 

Looking up at the shout, Ehsan saw the Roman standing in the middle of the alleyway in front of the palace sword in hand. Changing course he headed for the man, just reaching him as the blue robed brigands closed with him. Drawing back his sword arm, Spurius stepped forward and thrust his sword into the first of Ehsan’s pursuers. The man died nosily and collapsed onto the cobbles at Spurius’ feet, his life blood staining the square red.

“In trouble again?” Spurius laughed over his shoulder as Ehsan slowed to a halt and turned to face his pursuers.

Looking back at the insurgents, Spurius dispatched another man who couldn’t stop himself in time from running onto the Roman’s sword. Coming to an untidy halt the remaining blue robes hesitated; they looked from Spurius to their two comrades who were bleeding to death on the ground. With a loud yell, Spurius leaped towards the insurgents, raising his sword he brought it down on one of brigand’s arms cutting his knife hand off before burying his sword in his belly. With a scream the terrorist fell to the ground as his comrades turned and fled.

“HA!” Laughed Spurius derisively as he watched the blue robes run off into the crowd, “That’ll teach ‘em.”

“Thanks, Centurion,” Ehsan gasped.

“You my friend,” the Roman smiled at Ehsan as he put a comradely hand on Ehsan’s shoulder, “look like you could do with a cup of wine, then you can tell me what the fuck’s goin’ on here!”

0=0=0=0

**Dawn’s Bedchamber.**

Watching Cordelia brush out her hair in the distorted reflection of her bronze mirror, Dawn smiled to herself.

* _Perhaps you were right after all,_ * Roshan observed, * _Maybe you don’t need to beat her…but this could all be a trick to lull you into a false sense of security!_ *

*Suspicious, much?* Dawn laughed out loud making Cordelia pause in her brushing and look at her oddly.

“Look,” Dawn turned her head slightly so she could see Cordelia, “what I thought we’d do today is to go to the market and buy you a couple of new dresses.”

“A ‘couple’?” Quieried Cordelia, she thought she’d need more that a couple of dresses, and jewellery and…

“Yes you’re right,” Dawn nodded, “you’ll need a couple for work and a couple for best,” Dawn smiled, “no slave of mine is going to walk around looking like a frump.”

“Yeah,” Cordelia agreed uncertainly, she wasn’t sure she liked being referred to as a ‘slave’ but she’d go with for now, after all this was a coma induced dream it wasn’t real, right? “Erm,” Cordelia paused, she might as well say what she wanted to, the brat could only say ‘no’, “Princess,” Cordelia congratulated herself for remembering to use the girl’s ‘title’; she fingered the metal collar around her neck, “do I _have_ to wear this collar thing?”

* _Yes she does!_ * Roshan jumped into the conversation before Dawn could even open her mouth to speak, * _She still might run off and you’ll want her to be brought back so you can beat her…or someone might steal her._ *

*Steal her?* Dawn quieried.

* _Yes, she’s quite attractive,_ * Roshan pointed out, * _someone might try and steal her away._ *

*They would?* Dawn didn’t like the idea of anyone having to wear a metal collar to show they were owned by someone, but it looked like it was for Cordelia’s own safety as much as anything else.

* _Definitely_ * Roshan replied firmly.

*Oh, okay,* Dawn agreed reluctantly.

“Erm, yes,” Dawn watched Cordelia for any sign of rebellion, much to her surprise there was none, “for now,” Dawn qualified what she was saying, “but…I don’t see why it shouldn’t be a nicer one, we’ll visit the metal worker’s quarter as well. Now,” Dawn pointed over to her clothes closet, “Pick out something for me to wear, nothing too formal we’ll be spending the rest of the day out in the city not at the palace.”

0=0=0=0

Dressed and ready to go out, Dawn swept from her room with Cordelia a couple of paces behind her.

“Kitten!” Naheed called from over by the balcony, “Where are you going?”

“To the market, Nana,” Dawn changed course and walked over to join her friend, “I’m going to get some clothes for Cordelia.”

“Oh,” Nana eyed Dawn’s new slave with suspicion, “well I’m sure you know best,” meaning that she knew Dawn didn’t, “but don’t buy her anything too fancy or she’ll get ideas above her station,” Naheed paused for a moment as she wondered if she could recruit the new slave girl to help her kill the princess. “And while you’re out you better get some clothes for yourself, we’ll be heading out for Rome by the end of the week.”

“We are!” Dawn clapped her hands together in excitement; the sooner they were heading for Rome the sooner she could rescue her sister from the hell of the arena, “That’s wonderful news, Nana!” Dawn kissed her friend excitedly, before letting her go and bombarding her with questions, chief of which was; “How come we’re going so soon?”

“Ah,” Naheed sat down on a handy couch, “the governor…”

“The Governor?” Dawn quieried.

“Reading between the lines,” Naheed sighed, “I think he thinks you’re too much trouble what with the assassination attempts, the kidnapping and everything…”

“Assassination? Kidnapping?” Cordelia exclaimed, “You never said anything about this!”

“Cordelia!” Dawn turned to glare at her slave, “I’ve told you about speaking out of turn.”

“Shall I call one of Captain Sher’s men to give her a whipping?” Naheed asked hopefully, if she could drive a wedge between the princess and her slave the girl might well help her in her plot.

“No!” Dawn turned back to her governess, “No I’ll deal with her,” Dawn turned once again to give Cordelia a hard glare, “Later.”

“Mind you do my girl,” Naheed nodded her head wisely, “you’ll have no end of trouble if you let her get away with this sort of thing…you might want to buy yourself a whip as well.”

“No,” Dawn tried to placate her governess, “I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” once again she looked at Cordelia, “will it Cordelia?”

“No, Dawn,” Cordelia replied aloud while adding, ‘you stuck up little bitch’, in her head.

Dawn’s hand shot out and she slapped Cordelia across the face as the anger bubbled up in her chest, was Cordelia stupid or something? How many times had she told her not to call her ‘Dawn’.

“Do you want me to have you whipped?” Dawn advanced on a shocked and hurt Cordelia, “Cause you’re going the right way about it…”

“Why you little bitch!” Cordelia snarled as she sprang at Dawn with claw like hands.

“GUARDS!” Cried Naheed from the other side of the room; damn-it if only they’d been alone she could have let the fight go on longer; who knows, she thought, maybe the slave would kill the princess without any prompting from her.

* _HIT HER AGAIN!_ * Roshan called out as Dawn struggled to fight off the older girl.

Retreating a little before Cordelia’s assault, Dawn was able to give herself enough room so she could pull back her arm and hit Cordelia properly. By now Dawn was really angry at Cordelia for acting so foolishly and she was only vaguely aware of the sound of her fists hitting flesh and the grunts of pain as blows were landed on sensitive body parts.

* _STOP!_ * Roshan cried out a little frightened at Dawn’s fury, * _You don’t want her blood on your hands._ *

Blinking her eyes free of tears, Dawn watched as Cordelia was dragged away, her limp body held between two of her guards.

“Damn her!” Dawn sobbed as Naheed put her arm around her and tried to comfort her, “Why does she do this stuff, doesn’t she realise I’m trying to help her?” She sniffed, “And I had such a nice day out planned now she’s spoilt it all.”

*What’ll they do to her?* Dawn asked in her head as she settled into Naheed’s soft, warm embrace.

* _She tried to attack you,_ * Roshan replied slowly, * _what do you think they’ll do?_ *

*I don’t know?* Dawn replied miserably.

* _Why, they’ll crucify her of course!_ *

0=0=0=0


	14. Chapter 14

14.

**The Headquarters of the People’s Front of Judea.**

Sitting in the semi darkness of the cellar of the King Herod Memorial Home for Waifs and Orphans, Rafa listened to the children working in the sweat shop upstairs. Everything had gone wrong, as he always knew it would, it always did when you started to try to do anything practical. The problem was the Romans were just too good at this sort of thing, they’d years of experience keeping the lid on places like Judea and what did he have?

A bunch of incompetent fools, that’s what he had, not that he had many of them left now. After the organisation’s recent ‘set-backs’ there were only himself and Shem of the Central Committee left alive, not even enough to form a quorum; of the fighters there were only eight of them now. Those eight were only alive because they were the fastest runners in the organisation. 

Sighing heavily, Rafa looked around for the reason behind everything that had gone wrong, after all it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with his enlightened and heroic leadership; no, they must have been betrayed. Someone in his organisation had betrayed him and the People’s Front to the Romans, and Rafa was fairly sure he knew who it’d been. It had been that blasted Roman spy who worked for that foreign princess.

Nodding his head in agreement with himself, Rafa worked it all out; yes, he thought, it would be easy enough for the traitorous spy to infiltrate the Front’s meetings. It had been part of the People’s Front’s doctrine that the rank and file didn’t know who each other were. This way, if they were caught, they couldn’t give descriptions or names of fellow activists to the Romans, so, during the meetings they all kept their faces covered. It would be easy for the dog of a spy to cover his face, sneak into the back of a meeting and later give away all their secrets to his Roman masters.

To be honest, Rafa couldn’t see another reason for their recent failures. The attempt to kidnap the foreign-princess-whore who’d disrupted the stoning of Matthias the Blasphemer was a case in point. The plan had been carefully worked out and drilled into the activist’s head so that even those incompetents couldn’t get it wrong. But somehow the attempted kidnapping of the thrice-cursed-whore-of-Babylon had failed. Grinding his teeth together, Rafa didn’t notice the washer woman enter the cellar.

“Rafa,” called the washer woman in a strangely masculine voice.

“W-what!?” Rafa looked up from his plotting and squinted at the washer woman. “Shem?” He asked, screwing up his eyes in an attempt to see better, before adding, “Why are you dressed as a washer woman?”

“I bring news, brother Rafa,” Shem strode across the room his skirts flapping around his legs.

“Oh,” Rafa replied miserably, “I hope it’s to tell me that you managed to kill that Roman spy.”

“No,” Shem came to a halt a couple of feet short of Rafa, he shuffled his feet and wouldn’t look his chairman in the eye.

“Don’t tell me,” Rafa sighed heavily, perhaps it was time to dump these losers and start again somewhere else; Galilee perhaps, he’d heard that the resistance movement down there had recently been wiped out, he could start fresh there. “You somehow failed to kill one lone Roman spy…eight fighters…”

“There’s only five now,” Shem pointed out helpfully.

“Wonderful!” Rafa looked heavenward for the answer to his problems but as usual none was forth coming.

“It was an ambush,” Shem explained with a firm nod of the head.

“An ambush, eh?” Rafa asked with just a hint of disbelief in his voice, “Are you sure those incompetent idiots we called fighters didn’t just trip over and stab themselves with their own knives?”

“No,” Shem shook his head failing to notice Rafa’s sarcasm, “it was definitely an ambush there was a Roman force waiting to catch us once we’d sprung our trap.”

“So,” Rafa stood up and started to walk slowly around Shem making the female impersonator feel more nervous than he already was, “just how many Romans were there?” Scorn dripped from Rafa’s mouth, “An entire Cohort perhaps?” 

Shem shook his head.

“Not a cohort then,” Rafa paused in his circling, “I am surprised…please tell me it was at least a Century.”

Again Shem shook his head.

“Less than a Century?” Rafa asked his heart sinking like a bag filled with lead slingshot, “Just how many, then?”

“One,” Shem replied quietly.

“One?” Rafa asked with deceptive calm, “Big fellow was he then, twelve foot tall, breathed fire did he? I expect our fellows fought valiantly but this Roman monster was impervious to their swords or something.”

“No,” Shem tried to explain, “actually he was shorter than you and he wasn’t even wearing his armour, but he was very good with his sword and our fighters ran away…” 

Shem’s voice faded away to nothing in the face of Rafa’s barely concealed rage.

“RIGHT!” Rafa screamed as he broke the silence that had descended over the cellar. “That’s it!” Spit flew from his lips, “I’ve had it with you lot, I’m going somewhere where people really want to be free of the Roman’s and don’t run away at the sight of lone Roman swordsmen!”

“But…” Shem tried to interrupt, but Rafa didn’t give him a chance.

“I’m off to Galilee, mate,” Rafa started to collect up political pamphlets and plans from around the cellar, “in Galilee they _really_ want to get rid of the Romans…”

“RAFA!” Shem shouted shocking the other man into silence, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Forgetting?” Rafa looked at Shem and frowned all the time wondering what the idiot was talking about.

“The spy,” Shem pointed out unhelpfully.

“The spy?” Rafa shrugged, “What about him?”

“He knows your face,” Shem explained urgently, “he can give you away to the Romans.”

“Bugger!” Although the activists kept their faces covered at meetings Rafa and the other members of the central committee didn’t; after all, what was the point of being the leader of a liberation movement if people didn’t know who you were?

“We’ll still need to kill him,” Shem continued, “and we better do it quick because he’s leaving for Rome by the end of the week!”

“Ha!” Rafa laughed bitterly, “No doubt to receive his reward from the Dictator himself! Well, my old son,” Rafa put his arm around Shem’s shoulders, “I just don’t give a toss anymore, I’m off!”

The time had come, Rafa told himself, to put as much distance as he could between himself and Jerusalem. Perhaps he’d go up into the hills and be one of these messiahs you heard so much about. Now there was a job that didn’t sound too difficult, convincing people you had a direct line to God, easy, anyone could do it. People were just soo dumb they’d believe anything!

0=0=0=0

**The Dungeons under the Governor’s Palace.**

Waking up to find herself lying on a bed of stinking, mouldy straw, Cordelia groaned as all her aches and pains started to make themselves known to her. There was a clinking sound of metal on metal and Cordelia found someone had put big, heavy handcuffs on her wrists.

“That little bitch,” Cordelia muttered bitterly as she rolled over onto her side and started to push herself upright.

The memories of the last hour came sluggishly to her mind; she’d been doing what that little bitch of a so-called princess had told her to do, playing along with her little game until she could work out how to turn the tables on her. After all this was her coma induced dream wasn’t it? Cordelia Chase wasn’t going to be anyone’s slave, not even in a dream.

It was when ‘Princess Summers’; what about that, Cordelia thought, it was weird to imagine Buffy with a little sister, maybe she had more issues with Buffy than she’d suspected. Anyway, where was she? Oh-yes, the stuck up little ‘concha’ had calmly slapped her face for no reason that Cordelia could remember. It was at this point that she’d lost it, which she now realised wasn’t the most sensible thing to have done, she’d gone for the little whore but Dawn’d been tougher than she looked. The next thing Cordy knew these big guys with swords came in and pulled her off Buffy’s non-existent little bitch of a sister and dragged her outside. Here they’d worked her over with their fists and at some point she’d passed out. Now she was in some stinky dungeon or something, really she didn’t know what her mind thought it was doing to her.

Turning her head slowly, Cordelia looked towards the only source of light in the cell or whatever it was. A pale, dim light was coming through the metal barred door, unfortunately most of it was blocked out by the body of what had to be the ugliest man she’d ever seen; when she woke up from this dream, Cordelia promised herself, she was going to spend the rest of her life in therapy.

“What are you looking at?” Cordelia snapped as she sat up on the floor. 

“Eh?” The man gave her a gap toothed grin and then started to laugh in a most unpleasant tone, “Heh, heh ha,” he paused before spitting at her, *ptoo!*

“Aah!” Squeaked Cordelia as she tried to dodge the spit ball; it was only then that she noticed what the ugly-man had been looking at, so she pushed her dress down to cover her legs. 

“Eh!” The ugly-man looked at her disappointedly but then started to laugh again; Cordelia smirked as his laugh turned into a wet, hacking cough and he shuffled away from the door. 

“You lucky bastard!”

Screaming, Cordelia looked frantically around the cell trying to find the source of the voice. After a moment her eyes picked out the dim shape of a man who was hanging by his wrists from shackles attached to the wall. While what she assumed to have been the jailer was the ugliest man in the world her fellow prisoner had to be the dirtiest. He stank, making Cordelia gag as she got too close to him, his long grey hair was matted and filthy and appeared to have little crawly things living in it. He was dressed in filthy, stinking rotting rags and his feet were a good six inches off the floor.

”Who’re you?” Cordelia demanded as she retreated before the old man’s smell.

“You lucky, lucky, lucky bastard,” the old man ignored Cordelia’s question and chuckled to himself.

“W-What?” Cordelia stammered as her back came up against the far wall of the too small cell and she stopped retreating.

“Proper little jailer's pet, aren't we?” Sneered the old man.

“W-What do you mean?” Cordelia demanded, this wasn’t right, she kept telling herself that it was all just a dream and sometime very soon (and to be honest that moment couldn’t come quickly enough) she’d wake up and she’d be in a nice clean hospital room.

“You must have slipped him a few shekels, eh?” The old man sniggered suggestively, “Or let him slip you something into you, he, he, he!”

“Slipped him a few shekels?” Cordelia replied slightly puzzled just as the rest of what the old man had suggested registered in her mind, “EWWWW! Gross! You saw him spit in my face!”

“Ohh!” The old man looked at her longingly, “What I wouldn't give to be spat at in the face!” He sighed yearningly, “I sometimes hang awake at night dreaming of being spat at in the face.”

“You’re weird,” Cordelia explained, “and well, it's not exactly friendly, is it? Look,” Cordelia held up her arms to show the old mad guy her manacles, “they put these on me!”

“Manacles?” The old man sighed wistfully, “Manacles! My idea of heaven is to be _allowed_ to be put in manacles...” he said sorrowfully, “…just for a few hours. They must think the sun shines out o' your cunny, girl!”

“Oh, screw you!” Cordelia slumped down onto the filthy straw, “I've had a really crappy day!”

“You've had a hard time!?” The old man looked at her sternly, “I've been here five years! They only hung me the right way up yesterday! So, don't you come 'rou…”

“Yeah, all right, all right,” Cordelia sobbed as she buried her head in her hands, she was starting to think that maybe, just maybe this wasn’t a dream; the problem was, if it wasn’t a dream it must be real in which case she was in deep, deep trouble.

“They must think you're the Lord God Almighty,” the old man explained making sure not to add blasphemy to his list of woes.

“What will they do to me?” Cordelia sniffed.

“Oh,” the old man sighed wistfully, “you'll probably get away with crucifixion.”

“Crucifixion!?” The word hit Cordelia like a bucket of iced water. 

“Yeah,” the old man nodded, “if its your first offence.”

“First offence?” Cordelia couldn’t believe her ears, “Get away with crucifixion!? That’s…”

“Best thing the Romans ever did for us,” the old man told her.

“W-What!?” The old man had to be insane, Cordelia told herself, either that or she was.

“Oh, yeah,” the old man continued, “if we didn't have crucifixion, this country would be in a right bloody mess!”

“Help!!!” Cordelia cried as she crawled over to the cell door and grabbed hold of the bars.

“Nail ‘em up, I say!” Laughed the old man insanely.

“Help!” Cordelia cried again, she had to get away from the filthy, insane, old man.

“Nail some sense into ‘em!” The old man ignored Cordelia’s cries for help.

“What do you want?” The jailer reappeared in front of Cordelia and leered down the front of her dress.

“I want you to move me to another cell,” Cordelia demanded.

“Ha!” The jailer laughed into her face just before he spat in it, *ptoo!*

“Aah!” Cordelia cried as she tried to wipe the spittle from her eye. 

“Oh, look at that!” The old man cried out, “Bloody sexism I call that!”

“Shut up, you!” The jailer warned pointing at the old man.

“Sorry!” The old man mumbled quietly.

“Huh,” the jailer shuffled away again to the accompaniment of his own coughing while Cordelia slumped to the floor by the door.

“Now, take my case,” explained the old man ignoring Cordelia’s pitiful sobs, “They hung me up here five years ago. Every night, they take me down for twenty minutes, then they hang me up again, which I regard as very fair, in view of what I done, and, if nothing else, it's taught me to respect the Romans, and it's taught me that you'll never get anywhere in this life, unless you're prepared to do a fair day's work for a fair day's pay!”

“Oh, shut up!” Cordelia sniffed feeling very sorry for herself.

“YOU!”

Cordelia looked up to see a Roman soldier standing at the door.

“Me?” Cordelia replied uncertainly, perhaps the soldier had come to take her out to be crucified.

“Stand up!” Ordered the soldier; Cordelia pushed herself to her feet.

The soldier reached through the bars and grabbed her by her collar, pulling her closer to the bars and into the light, he squinted as his lips moved while he read the words engraved on the metal.

“Come on you!” The soldier gestured to the jailer to unlock the gate and then looked back at Cordelia, “Your mistress wants to talk to you.”

The jailer opened the gate and Cordelia found herself being pulled roughly out into the corridor, the gate clanged shut behind her. Why was everyone so mean to her, she asked herself, why was everything so hard and dirty and stinky and…

“My mistress?” That had to be ‘Princess Dawn’, Cordelia told herself, “What does she want to see me for?”

“I think she wants to know which way up you want to be crucified!” Laughed the soldier as he took a firm grip on Cordelia’s arm.

“Oh, ha-ha-ha-haa!” Laughed the old man, “Nice one, captain!”

“Shut up!” Snapped the soldier as he started to drag Cordelia towards the exit.

“Right, right,” mumbled the old man quietly as he was once again left by himself, “Terrific race, the Romans,” he told himself, “Terrific.”

0=0=0=0

**The Stables, the Governor’s Palace.**

The soldier had left her in what appeared to be a stable, Cordelia stood, her wrists still in her manacles and looked around. All the stalls were empty but she could still smell horses and the straw on the floor of the stalls was a damn sight cleaner than the straw in the cell had been. Turning towards the door, she saw it was guarded by two of Dawn’s guards, she’d not escape that way. Even if she did get out of here where would she go? If this was all a dream it looked like she was here for the long haul, she didn’t think she was going to wake up anytime soon.

0=0=0=0

Keeping her head down, Dawn walked briskly across the courtyard; she wasn’t looking forward to what she was going to have to do. She blamed herself; if only she’d been more convincing when she’d explained how things were and what had happened, Cordelia wouldn’t be in the trouble she was in now. As it was it had taken a great deal of grovelling, pleading and a promise to leave Judea as soon as possible to convince Pilate not to have Cordelia crucified. However, she still had to be punished, you couldn’t have slaves going around attacking their owners and thinking they could get away with it.

No, this was Dawn’s responsibility and however distasteful it might be, she’d realised she was the one who had to sort it out. Nodding to her guards as she walked through door into the stable, Dawn paused on the threshold as she saw Cordelia standing there in chains, her dress was dirty, her hair was all over the place and her skin was covered in bruises.

* _I’ll do it for you, if you like,_ * Roshan said her voice echoing around inside Dawn’s head.

*No, thanks,* Dawn replied slowly, *I’m responsible, I’ll do it.*

* _Remember, I’m here if you need me,_ * the princess retreated to the back of Dawn’s mind.

“Okay,” Dawn said to herself softly as she walked up behind Cordelia, “gotta be strong.” She came to a halt a few feet short of where Cordelia stood. “Just how stupid are you Cordelia!?” Dawn said loudly in the sort of voice that you really didn’t want to argue with; Cordelia however still tried.

“W-What!?” She looked down at the shorter, younger girl and filled her lungs ready to let rip with such a steam of invective it would blow the little bitch right back out the door.

“ **SHUT UP!** ” Dawn yelled extra loud, so loud it made Cordelia flinch and take a step back. “Have you ever seen someone being crucified?”

Cordelia shook her head and tried to open her mouth to speak again.

“I said, SHUT UP!” Dawn snapped taking a step towards Cordelia and forcing her back another step, “Well, neither have I,” Dawn explained as her eyes went hard and all pity left her voice, “but I did some research and you know what happens? It’s not like on Monty Python’s Life of Brian, its a horrible, agonizing torture.”

Cordelia took another step away from the creepy teenager; there was something about Dawn's eyes that really frightened her.

“First they nail you to the cross beam with the nails going through your wrists,” Dawn explained in a harsh whisper, “then they force your left foot back against the upright and hold your right foot over it while they nail your feet toes down to the upright.”

Gulping, Cordelia continued to retreat from the manic teenager, she stopped when she bumped into the wall of one of the stalls.

“Then,” Dawn went on with gristly explanation, “they put the cross upright and you hang there by the nails through your wrists and you SCREAM!” Feeling her body start to shake, Dawn paused and swallowed hard before continuing. “You scream in agony and you try to push yourself up on you legs to try and take some of the weight off your arms, you just can’t stop yourself from doing it,” Dawn took another deep breath. “But your feet have been nailed to the cross so every time you try to put some weight on them you can feel the flesh tear and bones break; its agony and you scream and scream and SCREAM!” Dawn dashed the tears away from her eyes with the back of her hand, she was standing right in front of Cordelia now looking up into the girl's terrified face. “You writhe up and down like that for hours torturing yourself, you can’t help it, the pain is too intense you have to try and make it stop! Eventually you can’t scream any more and you hang there, you can’t breathe and you start to suffocate. Then if you’re very lucky after a day or so you die with your blackened, swollen tongue hanging from your mouth.”

Dawn stopped talking for a moment and tried to compose herself as she watched the frightened tears rolling down Cordelia’s cheeks.

“This is totally real, Cordelia,” Dawn whispered into the older girl’s face, “it’s not a film, its not a dream, no ones going to ride in and rescue you in the nick of time. It’s hard and horrible reality, but I was willing to make it better for you. All you had to do was follow a few simple rules and we could’ve had some fun here, but on no! That was way too easy for the great Cordelia Chase, now look at you.”

Dawn stepped away from Cordelia, she turned her head towards the door and shouted.

“EHSAN! Come here please,” Dawn ordered and moments later one of her guard’s walked into the stable and over to where the two young women stood.

Cordelia watched the man in horror as she saw what he was carrying.

“I’m sorry Dawn-I mean Princess,” Cordelia gasped as her eyes remained riveted to the whip in the soldier’s hand, “I’ll be good, I won’t screw up again, I promise.”

“Hang her from that hook,” Dawn took the whip from her guard and gestured to an old iron hook driven into the rafter above Cordelia’s head.

“NO!” Cordelia cried as she tried to pull away from the guard, but he was too strong for her to fight, “Please,” she begged, “please I’ll be good,” she cried as her sobs racked her body.

Once he had Cordelia hanging by her wrists from the rafter, the guard turned to Dawn bowed his head and then walked from the stable. Taking a firm grip on the whip in her right hand, Dawn shook loose its coils just like she’d been shown by Captain Sher earlier.

“I’m sorry, Cordy,” Dawn sniffed as she tried to be brave, “I’ve got to do this, it’s either this or crucifixion.”

Raising the whip Dawn sent it slashing across Cordelia’s back.

0=0=0=0


	15. Chapter 15

15.

**Dawn’s Bed Chamber.**

“Bitch!” Cordelia muttered quietly under her breath as she neatly folded the ‘Princess’’ clothes and put them in a wooden travelling chest.

It was almost a week since Cordelia had received her beating and tomorrow she (Cordelia Chase, slave and general dog’s body) and everyone else would travel to the coast where they would board a ship bound for Rome. Placing another of Dawn’s dresses carefully (after all Cordelia didn’t want to be whipped again so she made sure she did everything she was told to do properly) she winced as she stood up, her hand went to her shoulder where one of the whip strokes had cut the skin.

“Bet that scars,” Cordelia mumbled to herself as she turned to start putting all the princess’ jewellery into a jewellery box, “Twenty-five freaking lashes!” She reminded herself and she remembered every one of them and one day she would make Dawn ‘I’m a Princess so you better watch out’ Summers would pay for what she’d done. “You’ll regret this,” Cordelia told one of Dawn’s necklaces, “just you wait, one day…”

“Wait for what?” A man’s voice came from the direction of the door; looking up Cordelia saw Ehsan, he’d been the guard who’d brought the whip so Dawn ‘high and mighty’ Summers could beat her.

“Nothing, sir,” Cordelia didn’t look at the soldier but concentrated on putting Dawn’s jewels into their box.

“You wouldn’t be thinking of taking your revenge on the Princess, would you?” Ehsan asked with a crooked smile on his lips.

He’d been thinking, if he could make peace with the pretty slave girl, he might have a useful ally as he tried to protect the princess. After all the slave girl was with the princess nearly all day and night, what better guardian could he ask for, however the girl was stubborn so she might need some convincing.

“NO!” Cordelia almost dropped the box in her hands as she sprang upright and turned to face the guard “Oww!” she cried as her skin pulled one of the scabs free from a cut on her back and she started to bleed again, “Oooh,” Cordelia’s hand went to her shoulder, it came away bloody.

“Here let me look at that,” Ehsan walked across the room and before Cordelia could say anything he’d sat her down and pulled her dress away from her shoulder; he examined the newly reopened wound, “oh, it’s not so bad,” he told her softly. He took a napkin from off the dressing table and used it to soak up the blood that trickled down Cordelia’s back, “There,” he dabbed at the wound, “it’s not so bad…”

“Not so bad?” Cordelia sniffed, she hated to cry and show weakness in front of people but she just couldn’t help it, “That little bitch whipped me and you say it’s not so bad!?”

Suddenly, Cordelia forgot the pain of the cut on her back as her hand flew to her mouth in a vain effort to stop the words she’d already said; she called Dawn a ‘little bitch’ in front of one of her guards despite herself she began to beg.

“Please don’t tell,” Cordelia pleaded as she turned to the soldier, “I don’t want to be whipped again, please…”

“You know,” Ehsan continued to hold the napkin against Cordelia’s shoulder despite her trying to turn to face him, “the princess is actually a very caring and kind person, I really don’t think you should call your mistress a…what was it?” Ehsan smiled broadly, “A little bitch?”

“Pleeeze,” the tears ran down Cordelia’s face as she totally misread Ehsan’s expression, “please don’t tell,” grasping at straws, she offered herself to him, “you can…you know…if you want.”

“What fuck you?” Ehsan laughed throwing his head back and showing a mouth full of strong white teeth, “Fuck the princess’ maid without her permission, ho! I’d be the one that got the whipping then!”

“Huh?” Cordelia frowned, “You mean…?”

“Yes,” satisfied that the bleeding had stopped Ehsan took away the napkin and threw it to the floor.

“Hey,” Cordelia said automatically, “don’t do that I have to pick it up before the little bit…princess comes home.”

“Sorry,” Ehsan bent and picked up the soiled napkin and handed it to Cordelia, “there, better?”

“Thank-you,” Cordelia saw no reason not to be pleasant to the guy; after all he didn’t sound that he was going to run to Princess Dawn and tell, plus he had been kind to her, something that very few people were these days.

“You shouldn’t be hard on the princess,” Ehsan told her, “she didn’t want to beat you.”

“Didn’t feel like it from where I was standing,” Cordelia sulked; she’d not even been smacked since she’d been a little girl, her parents usually just sent her to her room if she got on their nerves, so the beating she’d received had come as a major shock to her system. “Twenty-five lashes, do you know how much that hurts?”

“I can imagine…” Ehsan began but was interrupted by Cordelia.

“No you can’t…” Cordelia snapped into Ehsan’s dark eyes but it was her turn to get interrupted now.

“Shut-up girl and listen,” Ehsan said with such intensity that Cordelia actually did shut-up and listen, “It could have been so much worse.”

“It could?” Cordelia muttered.

“Yes,” sitting next to her he put his arm gently around her waist, “you know they wanted to crucify you, very keen on crucifying people are the Romans, even for a first offence!”

“But…” Cordelia wanted to point out that she was an American and things like that didn’t happen to Americans, at least not in Cordelia-world they didn’t.

“Now, listen,” Ehsan pulled Cordelia closer to him, “the governor was ready to nail you up himself, the Roman’s don’t like slaves trying to attack their owners you see?”

“Oh,” Cordelia said quietly as she found herself leaning against Ehsan’s muscular body, it had been a long time since anyone had held her.

“But the Princess she fought for your life,” Ehsan continued.

“She did?” Cordelia replied confused.

“She said that as you belonged to her and as she wasn’t a Roman citizen, Roman law didn’t apply,” Ehsan explained. “However the governor still wanted you punished.”

“He did?” Cordelia found herself staring into Ehsan’s dark eyes and wishing he’d do more than just hold her.

“Two hundred lashes was what he demanded,” Ehsan announced, “which would probably have killed you anyway.”

Cordelia whimpered quietly and held on to Ehsan as she slowly realised how close she’d come to death.

“But,” Ehsan took Cordelia’s hand in his free hand, “but the princess fought for your life again!”

“Uh-huh,” Cordelia rested her head against Ehsan’s shoulder, he smelt of horses, leather all mixed in with a sort of sandalwood smell.

“I’d hate to haggle with her in the market place,” Ehsan laughed quietly, “she beat old Pilate down to twenty-five lashes and then she volunteered to beat you herself.”

“See!” Cordelia pushed herself away from Ehsan and gave him a hard look, “See what I mean? She’s a bitch!”

“Foolish girl!” Ehsan laughed in her face, “Don’t you see what she was doing?”

“Erm,” again Cordelia frowned, “like no?”

“Look at me…” Ehsan turned his body towards Cordelia.

“Oh, salty goodness,” Cordelia murmured too quietly for Ehsan to hear properly.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Cordelia replied quickly, “you were saying?”

“Yes,” Ehsan frowned for a second as he tried to remember what he’d been saying, “yes, look at me, I’ve been practicing with sword and bow since I was a boy, feel the muscle in my right arm.”

Feeling her heart beating wildly in her chest and the saliva start to fill her mouth, Cordelia reached out and felt Ehsan’s arm, it was rock solid.

“Now imagine what would have happened if I’d whipped you…” Ehsan’s voice trailed away as Cordelia really started to imagine what might have happened.

“Oh my god,” Cordelia gasped.

“Yes,” Ehsan nodded his head as he saw the realisation dawn in Cordelia’s eyes, “if I’d been set to beating you I’d have had the skin off your back and the blood spurting in the first ten lashes!”

“Oh god,” moaned Cordelia her hand going to her mouth, “I feel sick.”

“Now,” Ehsan chuckled, “the princess might be strong for a girl, but she’s still only a girl, she cut the skin four maybe five times and then not too deeply.”

“Oh god,” Cordelia repeated again as she realised what Dawn had tried to do, “I’ve been such a stupid bitch.”

“Oh don’t worry,” Ehsan replied straight faced, “no one really noticed.”

Not noticing she’d just been insulted, Cordelia stared at the floor, she was angry at herself for not understanding what was going on around her. This was all real, the beating had at least convinced her of that, and she’d been a complete bitch to the one person that had tried to show her any kindness.

“What must she think of me?” Cordelia was shocked that she was actually worrying about what someone else thought of her.

“The princess doesn’t confide in me,” Ehsan shrugged sadly, “so I don’t know.”

“I must do better,” Cordelia stood up, “and to start with I better get this packing finished.”

“I’ll leave you to you work,” Ehsan got up and started for the door.

“Not so fast buster,” Cordelia called after the soldier, “you’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m not?” Ehsan turned back to face Cordelia and raised an eyebrow.

“Not just yet,” Cordelia put the jewellery box in the trunk with the dresses, “first you’re going to help be move this box and then…” Cordelia gave a coy smile, “…and then we’ll see how else you can help me.”

0=0=0=0


	16. Chapter 16

16.

**The Garden of Gethsemane.**

Lying back on the blanket they’d put on the grass, Dawn smiled as she put her hands behind her head; it had been such a nice day. Apart from anything else it had allowed her to get out of the palace and away from Cordelia’s sullen looks. Okay she’d had to punish her, but the older girl didn’t seem to realised she’d been saved from a death sentence, a very unpleasant death sentence too. Dawn had tried to talk to her but all she got now was, ‘yes Princess’ or ‘no Princess’ and ‘I couldn’t say Princess’. Sometimes it made Dawn want to scream or at least give the ungrateful girl another beating (this would have been Roshan’s preferred choice). Dawn had even bought the ungrateful girl some nice new dresses and she’d given her a solid silver slave collar, engraved with her name and everything; what more did she want? Laughing a little Dawn realised she was channelling Roshan, but sometimes Cordelia made them both so mad! When she got home tonight, Dawn decided she was going to have it out with Cordelia once and for all.

“What are those dark looks for?” Varro asked as he sat down next to her on the blanket.

“Oh,” Dawn smiled up into his eyes, “totally nothing important, slaves’ y’know?”

“Oh,” Varro nodded knowingly, he knew not to talk to Dawn about her new slave, if the girl was his he’d have sold her by now; but Dawn wouldn’t even consider the idea.

“So,” Dawn decided to change the subject and forget about Cordelia for now. “You sure you can’t come with tomorrow?”

“Sorry my love,” Varro reached across Dawn’s face to brush her hair away from her neck and shoulder, “Duty and all that, I’m afraid.”

“Oh darn,” Dawn sulked; her love for Varro had grown deeper every day until she really did like the idea of getting married to him (to Hades with just pretending to be engaged).

“Look,” Varro lay down next to Dawn and watched her face intently, “it’ll only be a week, maybe ten days at most. Then I’ll catch the courier galley, chances are I’ll reach Ostia before you do.”

Making a non-committal noise in her throat, just at the moment Dawn didn’t want Varro too far away from her. What if he saw a proper Roman girl while she was sailing to Italy? What if he decided to marry her instead? Closing her eyes and listening to the tinkling fountain nearby and the breeze in the trees overhead, Dawn wished she didn’t have to go to Rome to rescue her sister; she wished she could stay here with Varro for ever and ever.

Feeling Varro’s hand caress her breast and his lips brush against hers, she suddenly remembered that this was real life and not some romantic story in a magazine. In this world guys expected their fourteen year old fiancés’ to respond in kind when they made amorous approaches, and Dawn was still uncomfortable with that.

*Roshan!* Dawn called as she tried not to make a complete fool of herself, *Help!*

* _Ah!_ * Roshan replied, * _Having ignored me all day, now you want my help?_ *

*Please!* Dawn begged, she could feel Varro’s hand inside her dress as he teased her nipples with his fingers, *Please help, I don’t know what to do!*

* _Stand back,_ * Dawn could feel the princess smile, * _watch and learn, I won’t always be here to hold your hand…_ * the two girls felt something hot and hard pressing against their leg, * _…or anything else! I’m going in…of more likely he is!_ *

Feeling the dead princess take over her mind again, Dawn retreated into the back of her own head. It was an odd sensation, a little like watching the TV but with the added sense of being aware of what was happening to her. In this state she could lie back and enjoy the feeling of Varro kissing her, of touching her breasts and running his hands over her body. All this without having to worry about having to respond, Roshan took care of all that sort of thing. It sometimes worried Dawn that Roshan was so knowledgeable about sex and everything. Lying back in the darkness of her mind, Dawn enjoyed the feeling of her growing climax; she could feel her/Roshan’s body writhing against Varro’s as his hand and fingers probed between her legs. Lost in her pleasure she didn’t at first notice Varro climb on top of her and by the time she realised that he was sliding himself inside her it was too late.

*NOOOO!* Dawn screamed and tried to take back control of her body.

* _HUSH!_ * Ordered Roshan, * _Foolish Amer-i-can-girl, be quiet and lie back and enjoy yourself._ *

Despite herself, Dawn realised she was enjoying herself as the first waves of her climax washed over her. Thrashing and writhing in pleasure under Varro’s strong body, Dawn’s climax exploded in her brain like someone had hit her over the head with a lead pipe wrapped in pink fur; she screamed out loud in gratification as she climaxed again and again.

*GOD THAT’S SO FREAKING FANTASTIC!* Dawn didn’t know whether she’d said this out loud or only in her mind.

* _There,_ * Roshan giggled, * _I knew you’d like it if you tried it._

*But…* Dawn began to panic, it would just be her luck to fall pregnant from her first time.

* _Don’t worry,_ * smirked Roshan, * _you won’t get pregnant I got Varro to pull it out before he came, he did it on your belly instead…_ *

“EWWWW! GROSS!” This time Dawn did shout out loud.

“Sorry?” Varro asked from beside her as he rearranged his clothes.

“And so you should be!” Dawn directed the comment at both Roshan and Varro.

* _Did you want it in your mouth?”_ * Roshan laughed, she seemed to be finding the entire situation highly amusing; * _Again?_ *.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Varro replied defensively, “you said you wanted to and you appeared to be enjoying yourself, so…”

“Sorry,” Dawn reached out with one hand to take hold of Varro’s arm while her other pushed down her dress; she felt Varro’s ‘stuff’ soak into the material and she gave another mental *EWWW!* for good measure. “No, I’m sorry it was totally a shock to the system.”

“Oh?” Varro frowned as he looked down at Dawn, “I thought you said you’d…”

The sound of men’s voices arguing broke the peace of the garden preventing Varro from finishing what he wanted to say. Listening carefully, Varro recognised that the men were arguing in a mixture of Greek and Aramaic, reaching for his sword, he looked at Dawn and then kissed her on the forehead.

“Wait here,” he told Dawn as he started to get up, “I better see what’s going on.”

“Be careful,” Dawn called as her lover pushed his way through the shrubs.

0=0=0=0

Pushing his way through the shrubbery that hid the place where he and Dawn had just made love and into the garden, Varro saw a group of men about fifty paces away. They all seemed to be shouting at once and waving their arms around excitedly. As he got slightly closer he noticed that at least part of the crowd was made up of a couple of local priests and half a dozen of their temple police. Backing them up where four very bored looking Auxiliaries under an Optio. On the other side of the argument here a dozen or so local men one of whom Varro thought he recognised.

“…I never said anything of the sort!” Exclaimed the leader of the local men as Varro got nearer, “I just said to render unto Caesar what was Caesar’s and to god what was god’s. What’s wrong with that?”

Varro nodded to himself, it seemed like a sensible position to take if you didn’t want to get into trouble with the Roman authorities; plus it helped pay for the roads, aqueducts, schools, medicine, law and order and sewers the Roman’s had brought to Judea during their occupation.

“Its still sedition!” Announced the taller of the two priests, “Plus there’s the little matter of blasphemy…”

“Blasphemy?” Replied the leader in astonishment.

“Yes,” The priest nodded his head firmly, “On several occasions people heard you claim that you were not only the ‘messiah’ but also the son of god and to top it all you claimed to be the king of the Jews; which is treason to the occupying power.”

“I never,” Cried the prospective King of the Jews.

“You did,” replied the priest firmly.

“When?” Demanded the possible Jewish monarch.

“Earlier today,” claimed the priest.

“I didn’t!” Reiterated the Jewish royal.

“You bleeding well did…”

This argument was still going on when Varro came up behind the Auxiliaries.

“What’s going on, Optio?” Varro asked as he stood next to the Roman soldiers.

“An’ who wants to know, if you don’t mind me askin’, y’honour?” The Optio, a grizzled veteran, turned to face Varro.

“Tribune Acacius Varro,” Varro replied good naturedly.

“Sir!” The Optio braced to attention and saluted before explaining why he and his men where in the garden, “We was sent along as back-up to the priest an’ ‘is boys,” the optio gestured towards the arguing crowd, “they want to arrest this Yeshua fellow.”

“Ah,” Varro nodded his head, now he knew where he’d seen the Jew before, “I saw the fellow preach once he didn’t seem so bad,” Varro gave a quiet laugh, “at least for this place. So, what are they arresting him for?”

“Oh, the usual, sir,” the optio explained with a sigh, “religious stuff, sir, an’ the priests don’t like what he’s been saying so they’ve decided to shut him up.”

“Indeed,” Varro eyed the optio, he seemed more informed than the run of the mill soldier, “you’d think with only one god to worship they wouldn’t argue so much.”

“It’s the heat, sir,” suggested the optio as he eyed the crowd as the pushing and shoving began and the voices got louder and more belligerent. “Anyway,” the optio sighed again, “we’re here to back up the priest and to take the blame when it all turns to cack, you’d best be off back to your lady, sir.”

“My lady?” Varro gave a puzzled frown.

“Bit of a screamer, sir,” the optio said quietly while casting his detachment a stern look preventing them from laughing out loud, “like as not you didn’t notice, sir, sorry we heard everything.”

“Oh,” Varro glanced at the soldiers uncomfortably, “I say…”

“And anyway sir,” the optio changed the subject, “you’re not wearing your armour and this is bound to turn ugly.”

Following the optio’s gesture, Varro watched as the first blows were struck; it never failed to surprise him how a theological discussion could so quickly escalate into a full blown riot.

“Okay lads,” the optio turned to his men, “shields up!”

Varro’s hand automatically went to his sword as the Auxiliaries prepared to go into battle. He was a Roman officer and the idea that he should back away from a fight was unthinkable. He glanced over his shoulder to where he’d left the Princess, she’d be alright as long as she stayed hidden behind the shrubs.

“I say, Optio,” Varro pulled his sword free from its scabbard, “couldn’t leave you to have all the fun, don’t-cha-know? I’ll bring up the rear here, make sure no one gets behind us, what?”

“If you like, sir,” the optio shrugged before tutting and whispering to himself, “bleedin’ officers.”

By now the fighting had spread throughout the crowd and swords had been drawn on both sides. While Yeshua was calling on everyone to stop fighting the two priests stood at the back encouraging their men to fight and calling on the Romans for help.

Crashing into the scrimmage, the five Auxiliaries with their shields, chainmail shirts and long iron tipped spears made short work of the religious fanatics in front of them. Varro followed up behind the soldiers adding his weight to the small wedge formation that the little squad had made. Once the fighting was general he turned to guard the soldier’s backs just in case one of the insurgents lapped around the end of the short line and fell on the Auxiliaries from the rear.

As he was facing away from the fight, Varro never saw the two terrorists fight their way between two of the Auxiliaries. Before the optio could turn and engage the two men one of them thrust his sword into Varro’s back. Crying out in surprise and pain, Varro managed to turn just enough to plunge his own sword into the belly of one of his attackers as the optio cut down the other man. Seeing that the fight was lost the insurgents ran, heading for the safety of the narrow alleys of Jerusalem; they were chased by the priests and their police.

“Seems I should have listened to you, optio,” Varro forced a smile as he slowly collapsed onto the ground.

“Here, sir,” the optio caught hold of Varro’s arm and gently rested him down onto the trampled grass, “let me have a look at that.”

“What’s the news?” Varro asked stoically as the optio examined his wound.

“Sorry sir,” the optio said slowly, “I’m afraid it’s mortal.”

“Bugger!” Gasped Varro as a wave of pain washed over him, “That’s really quite annoying, optio,” he held onto the soldier’s arm tightly, “I was planning on getting married you see…nice girl…a bit odd at times but nice for all that.”

“You,” the optio pointed to one of his men, “go find the officer’s lady she’s behind the bushes there.”

“On it, opt,” the man ran off to find Dawn before it was too late.

“I do hope your fellow hurries,” Varro’s voice was a mere whisper, “I don’t think I’ve got long left.”

“You hang on, sir,” the old soldier advised, “she’ll be here in a moment.”

Closing his eyes for a moment Varro imagined the life he could have lived with his slightly odd princess back in Italy. The next time he opened his eyes he saw her looking down at him, he felt her tears splash on his face and arm; she really did love him then. Sometimes he’d not been sure of her affections and cursed himself for doubting her.

“Sorry old thing,” Varro said quietly, “I’m afraid the wedding’s off…sorry to leave you in the lurch like this…hold my hand would you?”

“I am, I am,” Dawn sobbed quietly as she held on tightly to Varro’s hand as if by holding on to him she could stop him from going.

“Name your first born for me…” Varro whispered.

“Of…” Dawn had been about to say that, ‘of course she would,’ but he’d gone before the words were out of her mouth.

“I’m sure he knew that you would, ma’am,” the optio told Dawn as he closed Varro’s eyes for the last time.

0=0=0=0

**A ship, just off the coast of Egypt.**

‘God this is boring’, Cordelia thought as she stood just behind Dawn. Ever since they’d left the coast of Judea a couple of days before, every day had been the same. Just after breakfast Dawn would wander out on deck and stand at the bow of the ship and look out over the sea and just stare into the middle distance. As her personnel slave Cordelia had to stand a pace or so behind her on the off chance that she’d want something.

After the death of Varro, Dawn had been escorted back to the palace by a couple of the optio’s soldiers; the optio had stayed behind to look after Varro’s body. Bursting into the apartment with her dress covered in Varro’s blood, Dawn had run to her room and locked herself in. No matter how hard Cordelia or Naheed banged on her door she wouldn’t let them in. Eventually Dawn’s governess told Cordelia to fetch Captain Sher and a couple of his men and they forced the door open.

After stripping and bathing Dawn, Cordelia and Naheed put her to bed. Cordelia had stayed with her all night eventually climbing onto Dawn’s bed and holding her in her arms. In the morning they’d risen, eaten their morning meal and packed the last of their possessions and started the journey for the coast. The governor, Pontius Pilate, was so eager to see the back of the Princess and her party that he wouldn’t even let them stay long enough to attend Varro’s funeral. This was all over a week ago and Dawn still looked like some forlorn ghost. 

Standing there behind Dawn, Cordelia fought down the urge to grab the girl, give her a good shaking and tell her to snap out of it. So, the guy was dead, what the hell? He’d not even been that handsome (at least Cordelia hadn’t thought so) and there were plenty more fish in the sea.

“It’s my fifteenth birthday tomorrow,” Dawn said so suddenly that Cordelia almost missed that she’d spoken.

“W-What?” Cordelia stuttered.

“I’m fifteen tomorrow,” Dawn repeated, “at least that’s what Nana tells me.”

“If I’d known I’d have got you a cake,” Cordelia replied in a low mutter not really wanting Dawn to hear her; being around Dawn was a little like walking on egg shells, Cordelia didn’t know how far she could push things before she earnt herself another beating.

“Fifteen and I feel like a widow,” Dawn sighed melodramatically.

“Oh my god!” Cordelia threw caution to the wind, “snap outta it will you? You didn’t even love the guy!”

“I so did,” Dawn snapped back angrily, she turned to glare at Cordelia, “and if you’re not careful I’ll give you another whipping, slave!”

“Okay,” Cordelia took a step towards her mistress not frightened by her threat, “so that’s how it’s going to be, huh? Every time I tell you something you don’t want to hear its, ‘lets whip Cordy again’! You’re just like your sister.”

“I so am not!” Dawn replied taken aback, “How?”

“I don’t know,” Cordelia lost some of anger from her voice, “it just seemed like the thing to say, y’know?”

“I know,” Dawn sighed again before turning to look out over the sea as the sun reflected brightly from its surface, “and I won’t have you whipped, sorry.”

“So you should be,” Cordelia replied full of self-righteousness, thinking this might not be the right tack to take, Cordelia tried again in a softer voice, “So did you love him?”

“Yes,” Dawn admitted without turning around, “with all my heart…” Dawn glanced over her shoulder at Cordelia, “We had sex you know…”

“W-WHAT!” Cordelia covered the remaining distance to Dawn grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face her, “You did what?”

“We had sex,” Dawn shrugged, “just before he died…”

“Well,” Cordelia shrugged, “least he died happy.”

“…I don’t think I’m pregnant,” Dawn continued matter-of-factly, “he didn’t squirt his stuff in…”

“I don’t want to know!” Cordelia said quickly.

Dawn pulled away from her to stare out over the sea again, “In the space of a couple of hours I lost my boyfriend and my best friend,” Dawn explained in a monotone.

“Best friend?” Cordelia frowned, this was all getting a little hard for her to follow, “Did someone else die that I don’t know about?”

“You know everyone thinks that I’m this Princess Roshan?” Dawn asked.

“Uh-huh,” Cordelia wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what Dawn said next.

“Well, her ghost or something used to be in my head,” Dawn gestured at her head just in case Cordelia didn’t recognise it.

“You had a dead princess living in your head?” Cordelia said with growing concern, “Gross!”

“Now she’s gone,” Dawn said sadly, “I think she went with Varro when he died, she always liked him.”

“Gone?” Cordelia asked slowly, “Gone where?”

“Heaven or somewhere,” Dawn shrugged, “Wherever dead people go I suppose, maybe they went to Sunnydale.”

“Yeah,” Cordelia said trying to bring the conversation back down to earth, “that’s just great, but in the mean time you’ve got to keep living, you know?”

“I suppose,” Dawn moped.

“No ‘suppose’ about it,” Cordelia tried to inject some enthusiasm into her voice, “you’ve got a sister to save…or one version of your sister, I’m not really all that clear on this entire alternative sister thing and quite honestly one Buffy was bad enough, but an infinite number of Buffys that’s just scary and like that monkey thing…” Cordelia ran out of breath and stopped talking.

“Monkey thing?” Dawn turned to Cordelia and frowned.

“Yeah,” Cordelia nodded her head, “something about typewriters and lots of monkeys and Shakespeare, it’s the same with your sisters.”

“Huh?” it was Dawn turn to be really confused.

“Well,” Cordelia grinned, “if you locked an infinite number of Buffys in a room, one of them is bound to have some fashion sense!”

Dawn giggled in spite of herself.

“There,” Cordelia beamed at her princess, “that’s better, no more sulking out here right?” She raised an eyebrow, “And now you’re in a better mood, I want to ask you something.”

“Yeah all right,” Dawn was still smiling about the infinite number of Buffys, “go on.”

“Ehsan,” Cordelia began, “he sorta wants to have sex with me but he’s worried that you might nail him to the mast or something.”

“Sex?” Dawn asked slowly.

“Yeah,” Cordelia nodded her head eagerly.

“But you’ve only know him a couple of weeks,” Dawn pointed out.

“What can I say?” Cordelia shrugged; Dawn waited for her to complete her sentence, but she didn’t.

“What?”

“No I mean, what can I say?” Cordelia shrugged again, “He seems like a nice guy and I think he loves me so why not?” Cordelia smiled hopefully at Dawn; she was unused to asking people for permission but this time it seemed like the thing to do.

“Yeah okay,” Dawn shrugged, “whatever.”

“Great!” Cordelia smiled widely and clapped her hands together in glee; she turned to go, stopped and then turned back to Dawn, “You don’t mind if I…I mean we…you know? Now?”

“Go on,” Dawn gestured for Cordelia to run along, “but don’t get pregnant, okay?”

“Sure,” Cordelia turned and started to hurry off down the deck in search of her soon to be lover, “not a problem!”

With the sound of Cordelia’s footsteps fading in her ears, Dawn turned back to look out over the sea once more. Oh-well, she thought, at least Cordelia was happy and maybe it was time for her to get over Varro, she’d wept and moped enough. After all, like she’d told Cordelia, Roshan had always liked him, it was probably Roshan’s influence that had attracted her to him in the first place. Best to put him behind her, but…but she’d miss having Roshan in her head telling her what to do and helping her with stuff.

Well, Dawn told herself, Roshan was gone and she hoped that she and Varro were happy wherever they were. It was time for her to concentrate on rescuing Buffy; and to do that she would probably need to know stuff about fighting. She knew some stuff but she needed to practice, no doubt Naheed would tell her it was un-princess-like or something, but she was the princess and what she said went…unless Naheed took it into her head to beat her on the butt again!

There were at least another three or four weeks of this voyage to go, plenty of time for Captain Sher to help her with her sword work. By the time she got to Rome she’d need to be ready for anything; after all as they said, see Rome and die, and Dawn didn’t want to die, she had a sister to find.

0=0=0=0

End of Part One, Part Two starts almost immediately.

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	17. Chapter 17

17.

**Book Four, Part Two.**

**Night Time, just off the North African Coast, about a week later.**

It was dark in the cabin; Cordelia lay on her mattress at the foot of Dawn’s bed and listened to the ship’s timbers and rigging creak as it lay at anchor. Shifting slightly, she pushed back the blanket that covered her body and listened to Dawn’s breathing. It sounded like the younger woman was asleep but Cordelia wanted to be sure.

“Princess?” Cordelia called softly, when there was no reply she called a little louder, “Princess?” 

Satisfied that Dawn was indeed asleep, Cordelia slipped her feet from under her blanket and quietly stood up. Pausing once again she strained to hear Dawn’s breathing and was relieved to hear the slow, steady breaths of someone who was deeply asleep and unlikely to wake until dawn. Padding across the floor of the tiny cabin on bare feet, Cordelia cautiously pulled open the cabin door all the while willing it not to squeak. Glancing nervously back to where her mistress slept, she carefully opened the door a little wider and slipped out into the narrow corridor that ran between the cabins at the stern of the ship.

Closing the door silently behind her, Cordelia quickly and quietly made her way to the ladder-like steps at the far end of the passageway that led up onto the deck. Climbing to the top of the ladder, she looked around to check that the coast was clear. The moon cast its silvery light down on the deck and she could clearly see the two sleepy lookouts that watched over the ship at night. They’d not question the slave of the Princess as to why she was moving around so late at night, they’d just assume that she was on some errand for her mistress. Stepping fully out on to the deck, Cordelia paused for a moment to look around once more.

Above her a hundred billion stars shone down on her brighter than she’d ever seen them in her own time. If she looked to her right she could see the wide expanse of the Mediterranean Sea, glittering in the moonlight like a silvery grey carpet studied with diamonds. Turning to her left she could clearly see the dark outline of the North African coast no more than a couple of hundred yards away. Getting back to the matter in hand, Cordelia made her way across the deck, between the neatly placed coils of rope, to the hatch to the cargo hold. Working her way quickly around the hatch she came to the smaller hatch that was always left open in good weather. Lifting her leg over the combing around the hatch, she found the ladder that would take her down into the dark, depths of the hold. Smiling to herself she climbed down into the pitch blackness.

The cabin she shared with Dawn was dark, but the hold was darker still. As soon as she got away from the moon and starlight that shone down through the small hatch she might as well have been blind; it was so dark she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. Not daring to light a candle or lamp, Cordelia shuffled cautiously between the piles of boxes and sacks of grain that filled the hold. Gasping as a hand touched her lightly on the shoulder, Cordelia stopped and tried to calm her heart as it beat fit to burst.

“Ehsan?” She asked the darkness; strong arms encircled her waist as a man’s lips brushed her neck and shoulders lightly. “Ehsan?” She asked again as her lover’s hands moved across her body, one hand came to rest on her breast while the other worked its way down between her legs. “Ehsan?” She asked for a third time as she started to squirm against the hot, hard, rod that pressed against her butt cheek, “Oooh! That better be you!”

Answer there was none, but the hand between her legs started to stroke her more urgently and the hand on her breast, kneaded her flesh and teased her nipple, she felt her lover’s hot breath on her neck as he kissed her skin and nipped at her ear lobes with sharp teeth.

“You’re,” Cordelia panted as she writhed in her excitement, “so, dead if you’re not Ehsan!”

Gasping with surprise, Cordelia felt herself being pushed forward so she was bending over a pile of grain sacks; she struggled weakly and half-heartedly as her dress was pulled up around her waist. Her lover’s hands, god she hoped it was Ehsan, rested on her hips holding her in place as the tip of something hot and hard brushed against her vagina.

“Oh God!” Cordelia moaned as her lover’s phallus slowly entered her making her squirm with barely contained passion.

0=0=0=0

Near the surface of the sea not a hundred yards from the ship, something large, angry and very hungry stirred. Something had invaded its territory, food had been scarce this season and the creature hadn’t eaten in several days, so it was not happy to see the intruder basking on the surface like it had laid claim to this patch of the sea. Tentacles swaying gently in the warm water, the creature propelled itself towards the interloper.

0=0=0=0

Passion spent, Cordelia stood upright and started to rearrange her dress as she turned to where the dark shape of her lover rested against a pile of boxes. Closing the distance between them, she placed her hands on his shoulders and kissed his lips.

“Who is this ‘Ehsan’ you keep calling for?” Asked a male voice Cordelia didn’t immediately recognise after she’d finished her kiss.

“Why you!?” Cordelia whispered loudly as she brought back her arm to launch a punch at the guy’s head.

“HA! HA! HA!” Ehsan laughed as he caught Cordelia’s arm before she could start her attack, “I wish I could see your face!”

“Why you…” for a second Cordelia was lost for words, “...Bastard!” 

“No, no,” Ehsan sniggered, “I’m quite aware of my parentage,” he clasped Cordelia around the waist and pulled her towards him.

“I hate you Ehsan-an…” Cordelia’s protests were smothered as the couple kissed again; their lips parted for a moment allowing Cordelia to ask the $64,000 question, “Can we do it again?”

“For you my love,” Ehsan replied loosening his trousers again, “anything!”

Resting her butt against a pile of sacks, Cordelia reached down and gathered up the hem of her dress once more pulling it up around her waist. Placing one foot on a box, she opened her legs to let Ehsan inside her again. Just as he was about to slip himself into her, a loud, hollow, thump froze them both of in place.

“What’s that?” Cordelia whispered urgently.

“I don’t know,” Ehsan replied; he might not know what had made the noise but it had put him off the whole idea of making love to Cordelia again; at least for now. “But, I think we should go up on deck.”

“Perhaps its nothing,” Cordelia held on to her lover not wishing to give up the chance of a second coming, “Maybe it’s an old tree trunk banging against the hull.

The sound of splintering wood and a long drawn out scream from the deck above, proved to Cordelia that it was something more dangerous than a floating tree trunk.

“Damn-it!” Cordelia cursed as she pushed down her dress so she was respectable again.

“We better get up on deck,” Ehsan said as he pulled up his trousers.

The sound of splintering wood had now been joined by the sound of water splashing against the hull. As the couple moved towards the ladder they could hear men’s voices crying out in alarm and terror.

“Pirates!” Ehsan cried as he started up the ladder with Cordelia close behind him; the ship lurched sickeningly as it seemed to be being pulled under the water. “You better get to the Princess and make sure she’s safe!”

“What about me being safe?” Cordelia wailed as Ehsan disappeared through the hatch above.

Poking her head through the hatchway, Cordelia was just in time to see a monstrously long, sucker equipped tentacle sweep Ehsan off his feet.

“NOOOO!” She screamed and watched helplessly as her lover was picked up by the tentacle and dragged over the side of the ship.

Eyes wide with terror she watched in horror as an entire forest’s worth of tentacles appeared over the bulwark. Her ears registered the sound of timbers shattering and the sea rushing into the hold below her, but she couldn’t move. Her hands were frozen to the rungs of the ladder while all around her people struggled for their lives against the abomination from the deep.

0=0=0=0

Waking up, Dawn didn’t at first know what had awoken her from a deep sleep and a rather nice dream about being home with her Mom and Buffy. Slightly disappointed to find that her dream wasn’t reality, Dawn noticed that the deck wasn’t quite at the angle it should be and she could hear the sound of timbers straining and breaking.

“Pirates!” Was her first thought as she sprang form her bed; glancing around to wake Cordelia, she found that her friend had already got up and gone. “Maybe she heard something and went to investigate,” Dawn reassured herself as she searched around for her sword.

Finding the weapon, she placed the baldric across her body and over her nightdress. Striding towards the door she heard timbers splitter with an ominous finality as the ship started to list alarmingly to one side. Pulling open the door, the sounds of men screaming in terror came clearly to her ears.

“What the freaking Hades is going on?” Dawn asked herself as she strode purposely along the corridor; again the ship lurched and she found herself thrown against the wall of a cabin, looking down she saw water starting to collect around her feet. “CRAP!” she cried, “We’re sinking!”

Hurrying up the ladder, Dawn didn’t notice Naheed come out of her cabin or the long sharp dagger held in her hand, the blade glinting in the moonlight. Coming out on deck, Dawn was confronted with a scene from some low budget sci-fi-horror film. Great rubber-like tentacles swayed above the deck, they looked so false that Dawn almost laughed until she saw one swoop down, wrap itself around a man and lift him, screaming, from off the deck. Coming out on deck, Dawn drew her sword. It was a good Roman one and she’d been taking lessons from Captain Sher, the commander of her guards, so she felt confident she could defend herself against some tentacles. 

Moving away from the hatch, Dawn searched the deck looking for Cordelia, the girl was nowhere to be seen. Dodging a sailor who ran by his eyes wide with fear, Dawn watched as her guards tried to fight the monster attacking the ship. As she walked across the deck, the ship took an even more alarming lurch to the right and Dawn found herself on her butt and sliding across the deck towards the waving tentacles on the seaward side of the ship. With admirable presence of mind Dawn held on tightly to her sword with one hand while reaching out and grabbing hold of a dangling rope with the other. The rope brought her progress to a halt and she was able to pull herself to her feet again as the ship righted itself sluggishly.

Hanging on to the rope Dawn turned to see Naheed coming towards her; Dawn smiled to see the dagger in her governess’ hand. Obviously she’d thought they’d been attacked by pirates too and had come out on deck to help defend the ship. Looking back towards the monster’s tentacles, Dawn was horrified to see that not everyone had been as lucky as she had. When the ship had lurched to the right it had knocked most of the defenders off their feet and they had fallen and slid into the scuppers on the monster’s side the ship. Now the tentacles where picking up the screaming men and dragging them over the side, very soon it looked like there’d only be Naheed and herself left on deck; Dawn turned to look at her governess.

“Have you seen Cordelia?” Dawn asked urgently; Naheed didn’t answer she just stood a few feet away from Dawn staring at the tentacles as they dragged sailors and guardsmen over the side. “Nana!” Dawn called, “We’ve gotta find Cordelia and then swim for the shore, it’s our only hope!”

Turning away from Naheed, Dawn looked across the deck. It had suddenly become ominously quiet as the screams of men dying had faded to become like the wind moaning in the distance. However, the sound of straining timbers as they fought against whatever it was that was crushing the ship, was getting louder as the vessel settled further into the water.

“This is all your fault!” Naheed’s voice came from behind Dawn as the deck lurched again and water started to surge across the planking.

“What!?” Dawn turned to confront her governess and to see her standing almost within arms reach, her dagger hand raised ready to strike.

“You can’t imagine how much I’ve hated you these last years,” Naheed took another unsteady step towards Dawn as the water swirled around their ankles.

“But…” Dawn felt stunned and betrayed as the woman got within comfortable stabbing range, “I thought you loved me…”

“Selfish brat!” the water was half way between ankle and knee as something rose up behind Naheed, “I’ve wanted to kill you for so long, I…”

Naheed’s words were interrupted by a loud *THUNK!* as Cordelia hit her over the back of the head with an oar.

“Don’t you dare threaten my Princess,” Cordelia told Naheed’s body as it started to float away, before adding more to herself than Dawn, “I never did like her…here,” she reached out her hand and took hold of Dawn’s, “we’ve got to swim for it!”

“Yeah sure!” Dawn stumbled after Cordelia towards the landward side of the ship.

The water got slightly shallower as the reached the bulwark and started to climb over the side, Dawn sheathed her sword as she watched the vessel start to settle before starting its death plunge into the deep.

“Quickly!” Cordelia urged as she pulled Dawn after her, “We’ve got to get away from the ship before it sinks!”

She wasn’t sure why they had to do this but she’d seen ‘Titanic’ and it was what they’d said on the film so it must be true. Pulling Dawn after her she slid across the side of the ship and struck out for the coast which was so tantalisingly near in the dark. Swimming with easy, strong strokes, Cordelia heard the ship finally go under, she was too scared to turn around and look because she feared that the monster would be coming after her. However, with a great effort of will, she stopped swimming and trod water as she turned to check on Dawn. With a sigh of relief she saw the girl swimming strongly after her.

“Come on Princess,” Cordelia called without a trace irony, “it’s not far now.”

“I think,” Dawn called as she spat water from her mouth, “That while we’re in danger of drowning like this, you can call me Dawnie again.”

Smiling to herself, Cordelia turned and struck out for the shore once again. So, they’d been attacked by a sea monster, so, her lover had been killed; so, Dawn’s governess had turned out to be a princess-cidal maniac. All that paled into insignificance against the fact that she, Cordelia Chase, and her ‘princess’ were still alive…so far.

0=0=0=0

It was in fact only a short swim to shore, but it was a much longer walk. The two young women had only swum about thirty strokes or so before the found they could touch bottom. After another twenty they found they could stand and walk to shore. Not really struggling to shore through the small waves that broke on the sandy beach, Dawn and Cordelia sat down to catch their breath. Looking out to sea they saw no sign of their ship or the monster.

“What time is it?” Cordelia asked as she wrapped her arms around herself, she was starting to shiver from delayed shock and cold.

“About…” Dawn glanced up at the sky; she knew how to tell the time from the stars because her dead friend had known, so now she knew, “I’d say around midnight…that means another three or four hours to dawn.”

“Four hours!?” Cordelia was shivering so hard now she didn’t think she’d survive for four minutes let alone four hours.

“Come on,” Dawn pulled herself and Cordelia to their feet, “Let’s get further up the beach and out of reach of that thing.”

The idea of being snatched off the beach by the monster galvanised Cordelia into action and she stumbled across the sand after Dawn. Making their way up the beach they came to some sand dunes where they gratefully collapsed onto the cold sand.

“T-this is t-the d-desert, r-right?” Cordelia said between chattering teeth, she saw Dawn nod in the moonlight, “S-so w-why’s it s-so c-c-cold?”

“I-I t-think its s-some-t-thing to d-do with the s-sand not h-holding any h-heat,” Dawn replied, “H-Here, s-snuggle up c-close.”

The two young women, put their arms around each other and held on to each other sharing their body warmth.

“There,” Dawn whispered feeling a little warmer now, “we might as well take these wet clothes off they’re not helping keeping us warm, they’re probably making us colder.”

“Okay,” Cordelia replied, she was so cold that she’d do any thing to get warm.

Pulling off their wet things they once again fell into each others arms and sort of dug down into the sand trying to keep themselves warm. Whether they succeeded or not was open to debate, but the close bodily contact certainly made them feel better after the terrors of the night and they both managed to get at least a couple of hours fitful sleep before the sun woke them at dawn.

0=0=0=0

Yawning and stretching, Dawn disentangled herself from Cordelia’s embrace and stood up to let the sun warm her body. Looking towards the great yellow orb as it slowly rose above the horizon, she brushed dried sand from her skin before picking up her nightdress from where she’d thrown it the night before, it was still damp. Collecting up Cordelia’s dress she shook them free of sand as best she could and draped them over a couple of clumps of the coarse grass that covered the dunes. With luck they’d soon dry out in the sun. Their only other equipment was Dawn’s sword and the small dagger that Dawn had let Cordelia carry for self defence. Not much to survive on, was Dawn’s first thought, but they’d have to manage.

“W-where am I?” Cordelia groaned as she sat up; looking down at her sand covered body and then up at the sun which was now a good two fingers above the horizon, Cordelia sighed heavily, “Damn,” she pushed herself to her feet and brushed the sand off herself, “sun, sea and sand…this is so going to ruin my skin!”

Laughing Dawn turned towards her friend, “Never mind monsters, shipwrecks, my most trusted friend turning on me and all those people being eaten,” Dawn was actually sounding a little annoyed now, “all Cordelia Chase worries about is what’s going to happen to her complexion!”

“Hey!” Cordelia complained, “What do you mean ‘most trusted friend’? Remember it was me who saved you from the bitch!”

“Yes,” Dawn took a deep breath, “I’m sorry Cordelia, and thank-you for saving my life.”

“Damn straight!” Cordelia replied firmly, “Now, you’re the Princess, time to start earning your pay…what do we do now?”

“Do princess’ get paid?” Dawn asked as she looked up and down the beach; not getting a reply from Cordelia, Dawn looked off towards the rising sun. “If I remember my geography right, and the sun rises in the east like it does at home, that way,” Dawn pointed down the beach towards the sun, “is Egypt.” Turning she pointed in the opposite direction, “That way is Libya, so,” she turned to look at Cordelia, “which way do you want to go?”

“Seen the pyramids,” Cordelia replied, “my parents took me there a few years ago…boring.”

“Okay,” Dawn shrugged, “Libya it is.”

0=0=0=0


	18. Chapter 18

18.

**The North African Coast.**

Walking along the track beside the beach, Dawn studied the terrain around her while listening with half an ear as Cordelia prattled on about what the salt water and the harsh sunlight was doing to her skin. The terrain just inland from the sea seemed a lot less ‘deserty’ than she seemed to remember from her geography classes at school. For a start there was grass, long course stuff true, but still grass. There were also lots of thorn bushes and here and there where the bushes had survived long enough, they’d grown into quite sizeable trees; and then there were the animals.

Once or twice, Dawn had caught glimpses of what looked like deer hiding between the bushes. In the distance she’d seen what could only have been zebras and once they’d had to stop to let a family of small elephants go by. Of course Cordelia was so wrapped up in herself and what the environment was doing to her complexion that she hardly noticed any of theses natural wonders. While all these animals were very interesting, so far (apart from the track) they’d seen no sign of any of the works of man, which Dawn found worrying.

Not long after starting out from their impromptu camp site, they’d come across a fresh water stream running along a wide, reed lined gully and into the sea. Stopping they’d drunk as much as they could after which, Cordelia insisted that they bathe and wash the salt from their skin and hair. At first Dawn had been reluctant thinking that the stream might be inhabited by crocodiles who were on the lookout for a tasty morsel like herself (no crocodile it its right mind would try and eat Cordelia). However, after watching Cordelia splashing about happily for a few minutes and still not having been eaten, Dawn took off her sword and jumped in without taking off her dress, after all she needed to wash the salt out of that as well.

But this had all happened a couple of hours ago. The sun had got hotter as it rose in the sky, quickly drying out their clothes. Starting to look back fondly to the stream, Dawn wondered where their next drink was going to come from; and as she listened to her tummy rumble she started to eye the wildlife hungrily, she began asking herself just how difficult would it be to kill and butcher a deer?

“…what we need to do is this,” Cordelia was still droning on and on, seemingly unconcerned about their lack of food and water, “if we see someone coming; you lie on the ground like you’ve died or something. Then when the guy or whoever stops to see if you’re still alive and worth raping, I come out of the bushes and…WHAM! I bash out his brains and we steal his stuff.”

“What?” Trudging along the track, Dawn looked at Cordelia; obviously Cordelia was more worried than Dawn had at first thought, “Hey,” Dawn had seen what she thought was a flaw in Cordelia’s plan, “why do I totally have to be the bait?”

“You’re younger and more pathetic looking than I am,” Cordelia informed her mistress happily.

“What!?” Dawn stopped and pulled Cordelia to a halt, “Look, if anything you should totally be the bait, after all you’re so the slave.”

“So,” Cordelia stood facing Dawn belligerently, with her fists on her hips, “this is how it’s going to be, huh? Every time there’s something dangerous to be done you’re going to throw the slave thing in my face and make me do it, huh?”

“Yeah, why not?” Dawn sounded slightly more defensive than she’d wanted to but she soon rallied, “Look if I hadn’t totally bought you with my own money who knows what would have happened to you, I think you should totally be sooo grateful and volunteer to be bait!”

“Look here, sister,” Cordelia waved her finger under Dawn’s nose, “there’s no guards around for you to call so you can have them beat me, so if I say you’re going to be bait then bait you’ll be!”

“I will not!” Dawn held her ground and glanced left and right looking for something to beat Cordelia with, “I’m the Princess and you’re the slave so what I say goes!”

“You’re just like you’re sister, you selfish, little bit…” Cordelia paused in mid flow as a female scream floated through the air to their ears bringing the argument to a premature halt.

“What’s that?” Dawn asked.

“Probably someone being raped,” Cordelia replied showing little real concern.

“Trouble,” Dawn pulled her sword from its scabbard and started to walk in the direction from which the screaming was coming.

“Hey!” Cordelia started to run after her, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To help,” Dawn paused in her advance and pointed her sword to where the track disappeared around a thick clump of thorn bushes.

“You can’t!” Cordelia begged as she held onto Dawn by her wrist bringing her to a halt, “You might get killed and then what’ll happen to me?”

Just for a moment Cordelia wondered what happened to slaves whose mistress’ got themselves killed; would she be sold as a second hand slave like she was a car or something?

“Hey look,” Dawn pulled her wrist from Cordelia’s grasp, “you can stay here if you want but I’m going to help,” another louder more desperate scream split the air, “it’s what princess’ do!”

“Since when?” Cordelia ran off after Dawn as the younger woman trotted along the track, “What sort of fairy tale books have you been reading?” In Cordelia-world, princesses did not march off with swords in their hands and determined looks on their faces. “Oh damn,” Cordelia sighed as she watched Dawn disappear around the bend, “well if she insists on playing the superhero, I better go and make sure she doesn’t get into trouble.” Cordelia started to run off along the track calling after Dawn, “Hey! Wait up!”

0=0=0=0

Trotting around the bend, Dawn didn’t know what to expect or what she would do if there turned out to be loads of brigands just waiting for her to run into their trap? However, nothing could have prepared her for the sight that did eventually greet her eyes. There, not ten yards away stood a real live centaur and there; lying almost under its hooves was the source of the screams. The centaur laughed nastily as the young, blonde, woman tried to crawl away, but every time it seemed that the she was about to make her escape the centaur would move to block her and laugh at her anew.

“What the hell!?” Cordelia gasped as she came to a halt next to Dawn. 

“Yeah, I know…totally weird!” Dawn cast around looking for another weapon having decided she’d not be able to kill the centaur with her sword alone, “Stones!”

“What?” Cordelia watched for a moment as Dawn started to pick up stones and throw them rather ineffectually at the centaur. “Not like that!” Cordelia picked up a baseball sized rock and pitched it at the centaur, “Like that!”

The rock arched through the air and hit the centaur with a resounding *THUMP!*, raising a cloud of dust from its flank as it hit the creature. With a cry of pain and anger the centaur turned to face Cordelia and Dawn, only to receive another rock full in the face. The centaur staggered back on its haunches as it shook its head trying to recover from the unexpected battering it was receiving. Just as it was gathering itself to charge its tormentors it received yet another stone, this one hitting it on the side of the head.

Seeing the centaur stagger under Cordelia’s barrage, Dawn took her chance. Lifting her sword high, she ran at the dazed and battered centaur screaming like a banshee. The centaur reacted slowly, distracted by another of Cordelia’s rocks, this one hitting him in the chest, only starting to turn away from Dawn’s charge as she got into stabbing range. Using the momentum of her charge, Dawn stabbed at the centaur catching him where the stomach would be on a human.

Blood spurted from the centaur’s wound as Dawn ripped her blade from its flesh with a vicious twist of the wrist. Screaming in agony the centaur stumbled away from Dawn clutching at its wound and almost tripping over its own hooves as it did so. Pressing her advantage Dawn stepped up to the creature once more and cut at the human part of its body. Again blood spurted and oozed from the long cut Dawn’s sword had made in its flesh. The centaur reared up on its hind legs and pawed the air with its forelegs almost smashing in Dawn’s head with one of its great hooves. As it landed on its four feet again it received another direct hit from Cordelia who’d advanced into close range as she clutched an armful of rocks to her chest.

Bombarded by rocks, cut and stabbed by the screaming harpy with the sword, the centaur decided that terrorising the human female and her servants wasn’t so much fun after all. Turning away from these vicious female fiends, the centaur galloped off into the bush; but not before he’d received yet another stone thrown with unerring skill by Cordelia. Being hit on the back of the head the centaur only just managed to save himself from falling; galloping behind a clump of thorn bushes he vanished from Cordelia’s sight.

“Hey,” Breathing heavily Dawn got up and walked over to stand next to Cordelia, “Where’d you learn to pitch like that?”

“Oh!” Cordelia dropped her un-thrown stones and dusted off her hands, “I dated a couple of the guys on the baseball team back at school,” she paused as she took a minute to pull her dress straight, “they taught me a couple of things.”

“I bet they did,” Dawn muttered under her breath.

“And what do you mean by that?” Cordelia turned to confront Dawn but the younger woman was already heading off to help the blonde who was only just now starting to push herself to her feet.

Walking up to the woman, Dawn noticed that she was young and rich looking, just as she was thinking that her and Cordelia’s luck might have changed, Dawn saw the woman’s face clearly for the first time.

“Kirstie Garner!” Dawn gasped; if Cordelia had been there to hit her with a feather, she’d have gone down like a felled tree.

“Dawn Summers!?” Kirstie sounded almost as surprised as Dawn; she stood up and tried to brush the dust from her once sparklingly white, figure hugging dress, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Dawn slipped her sword back into its scabbard and started to feel self-conscious about still wearing her increasingly dirty and ragged looking nightdress at such a late hour of the day.

To say that Dawn and Kirstie hadn’t been friends would be like saying that oil and water were unmixy things. Kirstie had been the bain of Dawn’s life back at Sunnydale Junior High. While the girl wasn’t exactly a bully she was the mistress of the cutting remark and the sarcastic put down; she was also the sort of girl who looked a couple of years older than she really was. Never getting a zit she was always popular with the older boys because…hey, she had the figure, right? Also she never got tongue tied or ran out of things to say to a guy and Dawn really, really hated her for it!

“So, Dawnie,” Kirstie had by now climbed back to her feet, straightened out her hair, clothes and expensive looking jewellery, while at the same time giving Dawn the sort of examination that uncovered every spot or blemish on her skin and every hair that was out of place; Kirstie pierced her with a pitying look, “how did you happen by.”

“It’s Princess Roshan, now, if you don’t mind,” Dawn replied with all the dignity she could muster; why couldn’t it have been one of her best friends like Janice or Lisa who’d been transported back in time, life just wasn’t fair. “I was sailing to Rome when my ship got attacked and sunk by a monster.”

“Oh,” Kirstie gave Dawn another pitying smile, “that was probably one of the Kraken.” Kirstie simpered as she minced across the ruined campsite in her tight and once more, painfully white dress, she sat down on an ornate chair, “I’m the High Preistess of Hecate and favourite wife of King Alexander of Colchis.”

“Bitch,” Dawn muttered under her breath; trust Kirstie to be a High Priestess **and** wife of a king when Dawn was just a princess. “I have a slave!” Dawn blurted out without thinking and gestured towards Cordelia.

“Oh that’s nice,” Kirstie smiled patronizingly, “I have hundreds…”

“But not here, you haven’t,” Dawn clutched at the hilt of her sword and wondered if this King Alexander would notice if Kirstie went missing…permanently, if asked she could always say the centaur had done it. “So,” Dawn forced a smile onto her face and any idea’s she might have about queen-icide from her mind, “how did you end up here.”

“Hey, that was wicked weird!” Kirstie smiled and for a minute Dawn saw a completely different girl to the one she knew. “I was crossing the road outside school, and I looked around and saw this freaking big bus coming towards me!” Kirstie paused for breath, “Then the next thing I knew I was in this weird temple place, with all these people acting like I’m someone really important, this was all about a year and a half ago, you?”

Before speaking, Dawn did some quick calculations in her head; Kirstie had ‘died’ while they were still at school together; in fact she remembered seeing Kirstie the day Buffy had told her their mother was dead and that was only a couple of weeks before Dawn herself had ‘died’. This wasn’t actually the Kirstie she knew; but she was still a complete bitch because, some things _never_ change. 

“So,” Dawn righted another chair and sat down facing Kirstie, “what happened here?” Dawn gestured to the campsite which Cordelia was quietly and efficiently looting.

“Oh that,” Kirstie made a dismissive gesture with her hand, “every so often I have to make these totally, long, boring trips to outlying temples, you know? It’s part of the High Priestess gig.”

“Sure,” Dawn nodded while in the background she could see Cordelia holding up a dress in front of herself as she tried to decide whether it would look good on her.

“It’s one of those things you so _have_ to do when you’re _High Priestess_ ,” Kirstie smirked, “Then one of these freaking centaur things attacked my camp and chased off all my servants!”

“Gee,” Dawn said insincerely, “how terrible.”

“Yeah,” Kirstie gave a long suffering sigh, “these centaurs are like, totally a real pest!”

“I’m surprised that your husband hasn’t chased them all away,” Dawn smirked as she examined her finger nails, “or isn’t he very good at that sort of thing?”

“Oh,” Kirstie smiled with her lips but not with her eyes, “he’s like soooo… _physical_ …if you totally know what I mean?”

*Bitch!* Dawn held on to the arms of her chair to stop herself from jumping up and bitch slapping the little whore up and down the coast!

“Anyway,” Kirstie stood up, to Dawn’s eyes she looked as if she’d just left a beauty salon and was none the worse for her run in with the centaur (how did she manage that?) “Like I’ve totally got to be going.”

“Huh?” Dawn stood up and watched Kirstie walk through the camp and onto the track, going? Going where, was Dawn’s first thought.

“Oh,” Kirstie paused and looked at Dawn, “like, thanks for totally saving my life, by the way, you can like have anything you can find in the camp I totally don’t need it anymore.”

What was the little bitch going on about, Dawn wondered.

“You must come and see me and Alexander in Colchis,” Kirstie gestured to the west, “it’s only a day’s walk…now I must go…”

There before Dawn’s very eyes, Kirstie slowly vanished not even leaving a smile behind her like the Cheshire cat; she did, however, leave a fuming Dawn Summers behind her.

“Bitch! Bitch! BITCH!” Dawn stamped her foot in anger.

“What’s up?” Cordelia asked as she came up behind Dawn.

“That…!” Words failed Dawn as she stood pointing to where Kirstie had been standing, “…bitch!”

“Yeah,” Cordelia nodded as she bit into a small loaf of bread, “I could see she was totally annoying you, so I didn’t get involved, here,” Cordelia handed Dawn another small loaf, “there’s some cool stuff around here.”

“Yeah,” Dawn agreed miserably as she picked at the bread in her hand, “Priestess-Queen-Bitch-Kirstie said we can totally help ourselves…”

“Cool!” A big grin spread across Cordelia’s face, “that’s great! There’s food and wine and clothes and jewels and-and all sorts of stuff!”

“Yeah okay,” Dawn sat down miserably on the chair again, “it’s not fair…”

“What’s not fair?” Cordelia paused before going off to ransack the camp.

“Kirstie,” Dawn sighed.

“Kirstie?” Torn between her duty to Dawn and the prospect of new clothes, food and jewels, Cordelia was surprised to find that duty won, pulling up a chair she sat down next to Dawn, “What’s wrong?”

“That Kirstie bitch,” Dawn told Cordelia some of how Kirstie had made her life a misery back in school. “Now, when I’m a Princess what’s she? A freaking High-Priestess-Queen that’s what she is! Why couldn’t she be a slave or-or better yet a real cheap hooker!?”

“I wouldn’t let it worry you,” Cordelia patted Dawn on her arm.

“Don’t let it worry me?” Dawn turned to look at Cordelia as if she’d grown another head.

“No,” Cordelia shook her head, “look, she might have all these jewels and dresses and witchy powers, but hey!” Cordelia gave Dawn one of her best one million candle power smiles, “You’ve got me! Come on,” Cordelia sprang to her feet hauling a reluctant Dawn to hers, “let’s go through her stuff!”

0=0=0=0

Materialising in the little temple a couple of miles from her ruined camp, Kirstie fumed as sparks flashed at her fingertips. Why had that little slut Dawn Summers turned up, she asked herself. She’d turned up to spoil everything, Kirstie answered her own question. Once her husband saw Dawn he’d forget all about her and marry the little home wrecker and make Dawn queen instead of her. Hadn’t Xander always been hanging around with that Buffy Summers girl? Didn’t it stand to reason that as soon as he saw Dawn, ‘I’m so sweet and innocent’ Summers he’d marry her and leave Queen Kirstie, stuck out in that drafty temple?

Calming down a little, Kirstie remembered who she was; she was High Priestess to the Goddess Hecate, she had power. More power than that plain, little, bitch Dawn Summers could dream about. Laughing quietly to herself, a plan started to form in her mind. With a little help from her goddess it wouldn’t be too difficult to warp Xander’s perceptions of the slutty, little, whore and make him see her as she really was, a conniving, deceitful, thief out to steal away a priestess’ husband.

“Goddess Hecate, hear my plea…” Kirstie intoned as she lifted her arms to the heavens, “…oh!” Kirstie stamped her foot in frustration, “Darn it,” she paused for a moment, “hey, Goddess its like Kirstie here. Y’know I’m no good at all the rhyming stuff so, like can you totally give your like High Priestess a hand here and stop that slut from stealing your preistess’ husband?”

There was an answering rumble of thunder.

“Awesome! I’ll totally take that as a yes,” Kirstie smiled, “like, this is what I totally want to do…”

0=0=0=0

Notes on Kirstie’s Goddess, Hecate.  
Also known as HEKATE

Goddess of Hidden Wisdom, Change and Darkness; she's also the Queen of Witches, but Hecate is not the evil hag that popular legend suggests. In fact she seems to have started out as Heket, the Egyptian Goddess of Childbirth. Her considerable power over nature ensured her continued popularity, but she's never fitted in with the crowd. Any crowd, she's very much her own Goddess.

Her role and attributes are hard to sum up in a few words; she has the power of change, whether for good or evil and is the one invoked when spells are cast. A good lunar calendar is essential as the power she gives is related to the phases of the moon. That's why it's best to start new projects when there's a full moon (if nothing else, at least you'll be able to see what you're doing). 

Hecate is often seen with three heads: dog, horse and lion (or snake). These symbolise the attributes of Selene, Artemis and Persephone (but not necessarily in that order), as Hecate is something of a three-in-one Goddess in the attribute department.

Over the centuries, her esoteric nature has led to a lot of misunderstandings and bad press. The modern conception of a wicked cackling witch with broomstick and warts is more or less the result of early Christian anti-Hecate propaganda (after all, any decent witch could cure warts in a jiffy).

Trivia: Hecatewas known by the Romans as Trivia.

Notes taken from; www.godchecker.com


	19. Chapter 19

19.

**The Road to Colchis.**

“There,” Dawn smiled as she hung one more bag around Cordelia’s neck, she stood back to admire her handiwork and tried not to giggle.

“Why do I have to totally carry all this stuff?” Cordelia demanded as she rearranged the bags and water skins hanging off her into more comfortable positions.

“I thought you were clever,” Dawn smiled as she picked up her own, much smaller bag and hung it over her shoulder, “I’m the Princess and you’re the slave…”

“Why you…!” Cordelia made a grab for Dawn who deftly stepped back out of the older girl’s reach and watched her stumble as she lost her balance when a couple of bags shifted their position.

“…and you better remember that,” Dawn warned, “we’ll arrive in this Colchis place today so you totally need to make like a good, obedient slave, okay?”

“I totally hate this thing!” Cordelia’s hand went to her throat as she gripped the hated slave collar, “And I totally hate you!”

Looking at the beast of burden that used to be Cordelia Chase, Dawn actually felt sorry for her…for all of five seconds. Dawn was well aware of what Cordelia could be like, if she wasn’t careful. Cordelia would be the one treating her like a slave and making her carry everything; Dawn wasn’t going to let that happen, she was fed up of being pushed around and told what to do. This was her chance to have a little fun, to be in charge for a change, to show the world what she was capable of. However, in the mean time she thought she better say something to prevent Cordelia from stabbing her to death in her sleep.

“I’m sorry Cordelia,” Dawn actually did feel sorry, just a little, “but you know it has to be this way and look,” she continued earnestly, “first chance I get I’ll have that collar thing cut off, okay?”

“S’pose,” Cordelia sulked, her shoulders sagging a little under the weight of all the baggage festooned around her body.

“Come on!” Dawn said brightly as she turned in the direction of Colchis, “let’s see what this place is like.”

Setting off at a brisk pace with Cordelia trying to keep up behind her, Dawn remembered the old saying about power corrupting and absolute power corrupting absolutely; this of course would never happen to her.

0=0=0=0

The previous day, after Kirstie had literally vanished, Dawn and Cordelia had fallen on the food left in the camp like two starving wolves. Once they had filled their bellies they then spent a couple of happy hours going through Kirstie’s stuff and belittling her fashion sense. Having finished doing that they found it was time to eat again. After their second meal and with the sun heading towards the western horizon the two young women spent some time picking out some new clothes from the selection that Kirstie had left behind.

When they started out the next day they were both wearing, simple but well made, off white, cotton dresses. There were a couple of fancier dresses in one of the bags on Cordelia’s back for best. They’d found enough coins to keep a roof over their heads and food in their bellies for a couple of weeks. The jewellery they’d found they’d decided to bury so if needs be they could come back for it later or tell Kirstie where they’d hidden it. They had sandals for their feet, scarves to keep the sun off their heads and faces, plus enough food and water for them to get to Colchis.

In fact, Dawn for once was feeling pretty pleased with herself. In the last few days she’d survived sea monsters, assassination attempts, murderous centaurs, annoying High Priestesses and, of course, Cordelia’s black looks. As far as she could see things were going pretty well. When they got to this Colchis place, Dawn wondered if she could use the fact that she knew the king’s ‘favourite wife’ (the phrase made Dawn stop and think, just how many wives did this king guy have that he needed to designate one ‘a favourite’?) to get him to lend her a boat so she could get to Italy.

0=0=0=0

Although Kirstie had said that the city of Colchis was a day’s walk away, Dawn and Cordelia made it before midday. Although they’d started just after dawn they’d not really rushed, Dawn thought that Kirstie must walk very slowly to take all day over the trip. The city was positioned on the coast and she could see a lot of ships and boats in what looked like a busy harbour. From where they were standing on a slight rise about half a mile outside the city, they could also see two gates in the city wall and what looked like a large temple-palace complex built on a huge rock to the eastern side of the city; here the rock had been built into the city’s defences. The temple-palace area was built in shining marble in contrast to the off-white mud brick of the rest of the city. There was a steady flow of people and animals going in and out of the gates and as they got closer Dawn could see that each gate was guarded by a small squad of soldiers dressed in what she had come to recognise as the Greek style. Walking up to the larger of the two gates, Dawn found herself stopped by one of the soldiers.

“Alright lady,” the soldier said in a slightly bored voice, “what’s your business in Colchis?”

“I’m just passing through,” Dawn replied fairly honestly.

“Come for the festival?” the soldier asked as he cast his eye over Cordelia and immediately dismissed her from his mind as ‘just another slave’.

“Erm, yes!” Dawn wondered what this festival was.

“You’re not a whore are you?” The soldier spoke as if it was the most natural question to ask a young woman travelling alone with just one slave, “Because if you are, don’t forget to pay your dues to the Whore’s Guild at the Venereal Temple down by the docks.”

“I’ll remember that,” Dawn reassured him and thinking that pretending to be a whore was as good a cover as any.

“Alright then,” the soldier smiled good naturedly, “on your way and have a nice stay in Colchis.”

“Thank-you,” Dawn called over her shoulder as she headed on through the gate.

“What was all that about?” Cordelia asked as they pushed their way through the narrow crowded streets of the city.

“He wanted to know if we were whores,” Dawn replied offhandedly.

“You totally told him no, right?” Cordelia asked.

“I totally told him, yes,” Dawn glanced back at Cordelia and grinned.

“You’re kidding, right?” Cordelia hurried to catch up with Dawn.

“No,” Dawn explained, “it seemed like the best way of getting him to let us in without asking too many questions.”

“Look,” Cordelia stopped in the middle of the street and pointed an accusing finger at Dawn, “if you think I’m…”

“Look,” Dawn stopped and turned back to look at Cordelia hands on hips, “I just said, okay?”

“Hey, lady!”

Dawn turned again to find herself facing what had to be a Watchman.

“You’ve got a bit of an uppity slave there,” he cast Cordelia a baleful eye, “you should beat her more often.”

“I know officer,” Dawn gave a long suffering sign, “I beat her almost every day but it doesn’t seem to do any good.” She smiled brightly at the Watchman as she changed the subject, “I’m glad you stopped me, I wonder if you could recommend a good clean place for me to stay for a couple of days?”

“Ah!” The watchman stroked his chin for a moment, “most of the really good places are full up what with the festival and all. But, my wife’s cousin runs a small place on the Street of the Silversmiths. Tell him Abrax sent you.”

After getting directions to the Watchman’s, wife’s, cousin’s guest house, Dawn led the way through the crowd with her uppity slave following in her wake.

0=0=0=0

“Just a room for yourself and your slave, is it?” the hotel keeper asked as he eyed Dawn and Cordelia suspiciously.

“That’s right,” Dawn nodded, “I did say Abrax sent us here didn’t I?”

“Hmmm,” The hotel keeper nodded, “You’re not whores are you, because….”

“Yes I know about paying our dues to the Whore’s Guild,” Dawn interrupted tiredly, “and no we’re not whores we’re just travellers…”

“Come here for the festival then?” The hotel keeper brightened a little.

“Yes that’s right,” Dawn nodded.

“Right then,” the hotel keeper placed a pottery tile with a number embossed on it in front of Dawn, “room twelve up the stairs on the right.”

“Thank-you,” Dawn took the tile and headed up the stairs with Cordelia struggling along behind her.

0=0=0=0

One day very soon, Cordelia promised herself, she was going to murder Dawn ‘I’m a Princess so you’ve got to carry everything’ Summers and stuff her body down the privy. The indignity of it! Having got up at the crack of dawn, walked miles to this city that smelt of fish (and other things she’d rather not think about) she was now struggling with buckets of water so ‘her highness’ could bathe and soak her feet. When was she, Cordelia Chase, going to allowed to get cleaned up and soak her feet? Her hair felt like it had half the Sahara desert in it too! Pushing open the door to their room with her butt, Cordelia manoeuvred the buckets through the door and placed them heavily on the floor. Looking around the room, she frowned, what the freaking hell was going on here?

“Come on Cordelia,” Dawn cried happily as she hung up their ‘best’ dresses to let the creases fall out, “lets get cleaned up and then we can eat.”

Cordelia’s eyes drifted over to a small table where Dawn had set out food and wine for a meal.

“Hey let me help you with those,” Dawn crossed the room and picked up one of the bucket’s of water before pouring it into the big wooden tub they’d found, “come on,” Dawn cried happily as she pulled off her dress, “lets clean up!”

Some little while later the two young women sat at the table having removed the sand from all those places you’d rather not have sand and were eating, bread, cheese and olives washed down by a robust red wine.

“So,” Cordelia said slowly, “what’s with all the ‘lets be nice to Cordy stuff’, not that I’m complaining.”

“Yeah, that,” Dawn looked guiltily at her friend, “I’ve been a bit of a bitch to you lately,” she admitted, “I’d really like for us to be friends, to be equals, y’know?”

“I think I do,” you could call Cordelia many things (some of them to her face) but stupid wasn’t one of them, “you’re scared I’d start to boss you around, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Dawn nodded her head before taking a mouthful of wine.

“What are you, stupid or something?” Cordelia cried out, “Of course I’ll try to boss you around, I’m Cordelia Chase, Queen ‘C’! What do you expect? All you’ve got to do is stand up to me and not let me walk all over you, understand?”

“Oh yeah,” Dawn grinned, to be honest she’d much rather have Cordelia as a friend than as a slave, not that having the great Cordelia Chase at her beck and call wasn’t fun, it was, but having a real friend was better. “Look,” Dawn leaned across the table towards Cordelia, “we’re in the Street of Silversmiths, so before we leave I’ll have one of then remove that damn collar.”

“You will!?” Cordelia’s face lit up like the sun.

Jumping to her feet she rushed around the table and pulled Dawn to her feet and hugged her while squealing for joy.

“Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you!” Cordelia cried, “I promise to be good and not too bossy!”

0=0=0=0

After spending a couple of hours resting on the bed together, Dawn and Cordelia got up and dressed in their best before heading out onto the streets. They followed the crowd as it made its way towards the temple complex. Everyone seemed happy and excited at the prospect of two days of merry making. There were jugglers and magicians in the streets to entertain the crowds along with dancers and musicians. Eventually they made their way to the temple where they managed to get a good spot over looking a big plaza which was itself overlooked by a huge three headed statue of the goddess Hecate. This was where the religious part of the festival would take place. 

By the time the crowd parted to let the priestesses of Hecate out to start the ceremony, darkness had fallen and the area was lit only by torches and large metal bowls filled with fire. Smoke rose into the air to be blown away by the evening breeze and the smell of incense filled the air. 

All of the goddess’s priestess’ appeared to be attractive, teenage girls dressed in loose, flowing, see-through costumes that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Dawn must have counted thirty of them as they took up position around the plaza. After a moment as the crowd grew quiet with expectation a band struck up a primitive beat and the priestesses started to perform a wild, exotic dance. As the music got faster the priestesses got more abandoned in their gyrations as they pranced provocatively around the plaza.

“I wonder just what this festival is all about?” Cordelia asked over the noise of the band and cheering crowd.

“I didn’t ask,” Dawn admitted.

“It’s a fertility festival,” a local woman informed them, “women come to see the dancers if they’re having difficulty falling pregnant…”

“Oh great,” muttered Cordelia, as visions of immaculate conceptions passed through her mind.

“I think we’re safe,” Dawn smiled seeing the worried look on Cordelia’s face, “we don’t worship Hecate.”

“Hey,” Cordelia pointed towards the dancers, “isn’t that, that Kirstie girl?”

“By Ishtar!” Dawn turned to look, it was indeed Kirstie, “How in Hades did she get back so quick?”

“Probably did one of her little magic tricks,” Cordelia’s eyes went wide as she watched Kirstie perform in the middle of the plaza, “Oh my!”

“I’ll see your, ‘Oh my’ and raise you an ‘Oh my Goddess’!” Dawn couldn’t tear her eyes from the gyrating body of her old schoolmate, “What the Hades is she doing?”

Dawn didn’t really need to ask as she’d seen this sort of thing before; she’d even done it once for real herself. It looked very much like Kirstie was performing a simulated sex act in the middle of the plaza in front of all these people.

“Yeah,” Cordelia tried not to watch but couldn’t help herself, “they did say it was a fertility rite.”

“Right,” Dawn watched as Kirstie’s writhings got even more frenzied.

Half a dozen dancers separated themselves from the chorus line, ran over to Kirstie and picked her up. Holding her by her arms and legs they ran with her still squirming body and lay her in front of Hecate’s statue.

“If only, Miss Dean could see her now,” Dawn gasped; Miss Dean had taught Phys Ed and Modern Dance at Sunnydale Junior high, she’d always complained that Kirstie didn’t put in enough effort; well the girl was sure making up for it now!

After a few more moments everybody; the band, the dancers and not a few people in the crowd came to a juddering, mind blowing climax! For a moment silence reigned over the plaza before it was split asunder by rapturous applause from the audience. Slowly the dancers regained control of themselves as they lay panting on the ground, climbing to their feet they moved to take their places on either side of the goddess’s statue.

Getting slowly to her feet, Kirstie rearranged her clothes so they at least gave the impression of covering her up. Once she’d composed herself she walked slowly towards the middle of the plaza were she came to a halt. Just moments later hidden trumpeters blew a raucous fanfare. Turning their heads to the right, Dawn and Cordelia saw the crowd start to part as a procession moved slowly through the crowd. Pausing at the edge of the plaza as if awaiting permission to continue stood a, tall, well built, dark haired man dressed in finely decorated Greek style armour over a blindingly white tunic. Gasping, Dawn stared at the man in wonder.

“Xander!” Gasped, Dawn as she stared at the man in wonder.

“Harris!” snarled Cordelia, “That two timing b…”

“Cordy,” Dawn whispered urgently to her friend, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to call the King a two timing bastard!”

Slowly, surrounded by guards, slaves and advisers, Xander made his way over to where Kirstie stood. Other slaves ran onto the plaza carrying an ornate throne which they placed next to the High Priestess. Walking up to the throne, Xander bowed his head slightly to Kirstie and then to the crowd before sitting down. His escort arranged themselves behind him.

“The Goddess Hecate has spoken,” Kirstie called in a surprisingly strong, clear voice, “There will be one among us today from the ends of the worlds.” She paused for a moment before speaking again, “Her name is Roshan. Any person of whom she asks her way shall say this: Alexander, King of Colchis awaits her in the temple of Hecate…and that is all anyone shall say unto her.”

“Hell,” Cordelia whispered, “what are you going to do?” Cordelia looked around in confusion, Dawn was nowhere to be seen, “What the…” being drawn to a minor disturbance in front of her, Cordelia saw Dawn push her way to the front of the crowd and stand in the open facing King ‘Xander’.

“Come forward Roshan,” Xander called, his voice familiar in Dawn’s ears.

Slowly and with dignity, Dawn advanced on Xander; she noticed that he looked older, more grown-up than the Xander who she’d once had a crush on. She also noticed the great scare that passed under the eye patch and over his left eye and across his cheek, he’d certainly not had that the last time she’d seen him. Finding herself standing only a few feet from her old friend, Dawn smiled hesitantly.

“Dawn?” Xander asked uncertainly.

“Hi,” Dawn said quietly as she raised her hand and waved her fingers at him.

“Erm,” Xander shook his head as he appeared unsure what he should do or say, “look, um, hey, like what?” Xander paused for a moment and gathered his thoughts, having got over his initial shock he looked out over the crowd again. “You have done us a great service saving the High Priestess of Hecate from the evil centaurs, Tonight we shall feast!”

A cheer rose from the throats of the crowd as they started to turn away to begin the real festival.

“Dawn!” Xander stepped down from his throne and hugged Dawn, “Where…how? I’ve got so many questions.”

“Me too,” Dawn replied her face squished up against Xander’s breastplate.

“This is a cause to party,” Xander let go of Dawn and stood back to look at her, “even if we weren’t gonna already…” Xander frowned, “…hey, have you got taller or something?”

“Maybe,” Dawn admitted, “look I’m here with someone.”

“Call ‘em over,” Xander smiled, “the more the merrier.”

Dawn waved frantically for Cordelia to come and join her. For a moment it looked like Cordelia was going to walk away with the rest of the crowd, but slowly she turned and went to join Dawn in front of Xander’s throne.

“You remember, Cordelia,” Dawn asked hoping the two of them could get passed their messy break up.

“Who?” Xander asked completely puzzled.

0=0=0=0


	20. Chapter 20

20.

**King Xander’s Palace.**

“I-I’m just a slave,” Cordelia announced before Dawn could say anything more, “there’s no reason to bother with me, your King-ship, I’ll just stand here and be quiet.”

Looking at her friend, Dawn gave Cordelia an annoyed frown; seeing the blank look on Cordelia’s face, Dawn surmised that she must have her reasons for not wanting to talk to Xander. No doubt she was still having feelings of mistrust and betrayal from when she’d broken up with him. Cordelia did indeed have misgivings about this new Xander Harris, but they had little to do with him having been a two timing bastard with that skinny, little whore, Willow Rosenberg! No, this was something different, this was something new that made her feel like she was about to be stabbed in the back. 

When she’d seen the way Harris had looked at Dawn a sort of shiver had passed down her spine. The way his smile never quite reached his eye, the way he looked at Dawn, the looks he exchanged with that little slut, Kirstie, she just didn’t like it, it felt all wrong. The time had come, thought Cordelia, for her to play the part of the good, obedient, quiet slave and stand at the back where she could watch what was going on. If there was one thing she’d learned in her short career as Dawn’s personal slave; it was that no one noticed slaves and Cordelia had a feeling that this one time not being noticed was a good thing.

0=0=0=0

As parties went this was quite a good one, not that Dawn had that much experience with parties thrown by kings, but this one seemed like a lot of fun. It was being held on an enormous balcony overlooking the harbour. There were couches and cushions for people to sit and lie on as only Xander seemed to have a chair. There were the usual courtiers and hangers on with their wives and girlfriends, sometimes both at the same time. Slaves hurried about handing out food and wine as a troupe of erotic dancers (who Dawn discovered were some of Xander’s lesser wives) danced for the entertainment of the party guests. Sitting on a low stool on Xander’s left, Dawn looked around his knees to see Kirstie sitting on another stool to his right. Turning her head Dawn looked for Cordelia only to see her standing in the shadows against the wall. Frowning, Dawn wished her friend would come and join the party. Standing up, Xander took a couple of paces towards the edge of the low dais where his throne was situated, he raised a cup of wine as the band, who’d been accompanying the dancers, fell silent.

“To Princess Roshan!” Xander called out before drinking from his cup.

“PRINCESS ROSHAN!” Cried the guests as they drank and the band started to play again.

Feeling more than a little embarrassed by all the attention, Dawn turned her head away so didn’t notice the half-dozen guards sidle into the room and take up position near King Xander’s throne. Turning around, Xander walked slowly back to his throne and sat down.

“Tell me, Dawnie,” Xander leaned towards Dawn as he watched her face intently, “why did you come to Colchis?”

“Yeah, right,” Dawn sipped her wine thinking it was pretty strong so she better be careful what she said, “like I said to Kirstie,” Dawn gestured towards Kirstie, “my ship was sunk by a sea monster.”

“Of course the Kraken,” Xander put down his wine as his single eye seemed to bore into Dawn’s soul. “You know,” Xander continued his voice soft, “people who lie to me usually end up dead?”

“What?” Dawn looked at her wine again; it must be stronger than she’d thought because she was sure that Xander had just said…

“I know you’ve come to steal the fleece!” Xander snapped angrily, “Kirstie has told me everything, you should never have told her your vile plan!”

“WHAT!?” Dawn squeaked as her eyes shifted from Xander to where Kirstie sat with a self satisfied smirk on her face.

“You’ll never get your greedy hands on it ‘Dawnie’,” Xander sneered in a way that sent icy shivers of fear down Dawn’s back. “It was a gift from the Gods and has brought peace and prosperity to Colchis. If it was ever stolen it would mean the destruction of the entire country!”

“But Xander!” Dawn pleaded, “I’d never even heard of this ‘fleece’ thing until you mentioned it…how could you think I’d steal it and what would I want with a rotten, old, smelly, fleece anyway…” Dawn’s voice petered out as she realised that the band had stopped playing, the dancers had stopped dancing and all the guests were looking at her, she swallowed hard, “Ooops!”

“You always were a conniving, deceitful, thieving little brat!” Xander said as he stool up slowly and looked contemptuously down at Dawn. “I always wondered how Buffy could have had such a bad tempered, selfish, little bitch like you as a sister!”

“B-but, that’s not me,” Dawn pleaded wishing she was anywhere but here.

“Ha!” Xander’s laugh was full of scorn, “We can no longer welcome you, but treat you as you deserve!” Xander laughed manically, “MAW-HA-HA! I intend to treat you like what you are, a common thief!”

“NO XANDER!” The wine cup fell from Dawn’s numbed hand as she stumbled to her feet, “That’s not me that’s a different Dawn, I-I can explain everything if you’ll just listen…”

“Don’t believe a word she says, husband!” Kirstie jumped up to add her voice to the ‘lets be horrid to Dawn’ movement, “she told me everything! How she intended to bring plague and famine down on your kingdom, defile our Goddess. How she was going to steal you away from me so she could have you for herself!”

“No I never!” Dawn shrieked.

“Calling my wife and the High Priestess of Hecate a liar now, huh, Dawnie?” Xander went to stand by his wife putting a protective arm around her as he did so, “Well ‘Dawnie’…how I hated the mere sound of that name and your whiney voice and the way you teased Willow, then you come here pretending to be pleased to see me, I’ve had enough of you! GUARDS!” Xander looked away from Dawn and held his wife close never seeing the smile of satisfaction on her face, “Take her from my sight!”

“Nooooooo!” Dawn cried as the guards grabbed her and dragged her off to the dungeons.

“Tomorrow,” Xander called as Dawn was carried bodily away, “we will let the goddess decide your fate!”

0=0=0=0

Standing against the wall behind Xander’s throne, Cordelia decided that it was good to be a slave; okay there was all the fetching and carrying to be done and the occasional beating to put up with, but no one had their guards drag you off and throw you in a dungeon! Cordelia thought about this for a moment; okay there had been that one time in Jerusalem, but generally.... Of course this was typical Xander Harris, Cordelia told herself, first he pretends to love you, be your friend and then…and then he betrays you with some skinny, red haired slut and rips your heart out and tramples it under foot! Or, in this case, has you thrown into a dungeon which wasn’t near as bad as having your heart broken.

Smouldering with pent up anger, Cordelia decided that the time had come for her to make her exit and find out where Dawn had been taken. Then she’d rescue her ‘mistress’ and they’d make their break for freedom, but first she needed information. Pausing as she disappeared around a big curtain, Cordelia pondered this last thought. What was the best place to go for information in a palace like this? The kitchens! In the kitchens the slaves knew exactly what was going on. People forgot that slaves were everywhere in a place like this, they heard stuff and understood more than their masters ever realised; and the kitchens acted as a sort of clearing house for information.

Smiling to herself as she made her way swiftly and silently along a corridor towards the slave’s part of the palace, Cordelia wondered why governments spent so much money on spies. All they needed to do was to ask the greengrocer what he talked about with the second under cook or something! Following her nose, Cordelia made her way rapidly down through the palace’s labyrinthine corridors and rooms until she came around a corner and found herself in the bustling chaos of the main kitchens.

“Time to get to work, Cordy,” Cordelia smiled as she picked up a spare tray from a table and walked in amongst the kitchen workers.

0=0=0=0

Sitting on the cold, hard, stone bed of her small, dank, dark and smelly cell, Dawn sobbed piteously. How could Xander not listen to her? Let her try to explain that she wasn’t the Dawn he thought she was. The answer was plain to see…KIRSTIE! Not satisfied with making her school career a misery, the little bitch appeared determined that Dawn should die. Oh yes, the Goddess Hecate would decide her fate in the morning. But who was the goddess’s mouth piece here on earth? High Priestess, bitch-slut, Kirstie, that’s who! Dawn knew exactly what her fate would be, death, or something worse like being Kirstie’s slave or something, oh how the little bitch would love that! Having a real live princess as her slave.

Catching herself, Dawn reminded herself that she wasn’t actually a real princess. Smiling she thought that there must be a residual part of the real Princes Roshan still in her head, that she hadn’t gone away completely when Varro had died. Sniffing quietly, Dawn realised she hadn’t thought of her dead lover in days nor had she thought about the dead girl who’d shared her head for several weeks. This almost made her feel worse than she felt at being locked up in the stinky cell.

Oh, how she wished Varro was here, or that the real Roshan was still in her head. At this point, Dawn made her mind up about one thing. If she ever got out of here, she was going to change her name, go back to being known as Dawn or use the Roman version of her name, Aurora. It seemed somehow disrespectful to keep calling herself Princess Roshan, the poor girl deserved better than being forever connected with Dawn’s continued screw ups. But she wouldn’t forget the girl and she wouldn’t forget Varro either. Somehow she’d immortalise their names, perhaps if she ever had children she’d name her kids after her two friends. But having kids seemed increasingly unlikely now, she was in all probability going to die tomorrow, perhaps it was time to make her peace with herself and maybe her god. Sliding off her hard bed, Dawn got down on her knees, she wiped the tears from her eyes and looked heavenward; always look your god straight in their eye, Roshan had told her, it helps keep them honest.

“Oh Goddess Ishtar,” Dawn began hesitantly, “I know you’re not my god but you were Roshan’s goddess and she always spoke highly of you and with great affection,” Dawn paused to sniff back a tear. “I know I’ve never spoken to you before and it seems rude to ask you for stuff when I’ve hardly ever given you a second thought, but…but I am in Roshan’s body so maybe you could cut me some slack just this once?” Dawn took a deep breath, “You know, if you could totally unlock the cell door I’d be really thankful and be your loyal servant and…and…” Dawn sighed, “Who am I kidding?” She asked, “You and I both know that if you get me out of here I’ll have forgotten about any promise I made until the next time I want help with something, but…but maybe if you help me just this once I’ll try to do better in future, hmm? Please?”

Slumping dejectedly against the bed, Dawn sighed, nothing would happen, no one would come; Cordy was probably captured and being whipped for Xander’s and his bitch-slut wife’s entertainment right this minute...or she’d run off because Dawn had been such a bitch to her recently. 

Pausing in her, self-hating, self pity, Dawn heard something rattle in the door lock, something like a key. Jumping to her feet she scurried over to stand behind the door; maybe she could trip whoever came in up and make a break for freedom. Standing hard up against the wall and trying to silence her frantically beating heart, Dawn looked skyward once more.

“Thank-you, Ishtar, I won’t forget this,” much to her own surprise, Dawn realised that she really meant what she said.

0=0=0=0

Keeping the long, sharp, kitchen knife hidden under the tray, Cordelia carried the jug of wine down into the dungeons where she’d found out that Dawn was being held. Knowing she had to move quickly, because Dawn would be executed in the morning, Cordelia paused at the bottom of the stairs and looked around.

The chamber she was in was surprisingly well lit with little oil lamps that hardly gave off any smoke at all. From her short stay in the dungeon under the palace in Jerusalem, Cordelia saw that this was a much better class of jail, with swept floors and no prisoners moaning or screaming in the background. Moving quickly across the floor, Cordelia looked around for the jailer, she needed to find the keys for her deceptively simple jailbreak plan to work.

“Hey girl,” a voice called from behind her.

Turning, Cordelia confronted what had to be the jailer, unlike the one in Jerusalem, this one wore a smart uniform tunic and didn’t have a wet, hacking cough. He did, however look at Cordelia with the same lust filled eyes. Gulping back the bile that rose in her throat, Cordelia smiled pleasantly at the jailer.

“Hi!” Cordelia took half a step towards the jailer so he could get a better look at her breasts, “I’m Cordy, the King sent me down here to keep you, erm, company…”

The jailer looked at her suspiciously and asked, “Why?”

“Why?” Cordelia frowned, “Yeah, why?” Her mind worked faster than it ever had when she was lying to her mother about where she’d been all night. “Um look, the King said it wasn’t fair that you always got night duty when everyone else was having fun at the festival.”

“That’s true,” the jailer nodded his head, “I always seem to pull night duty on festival nights. It’s that bastard head jailer, y’know? I don’t think he likes me.” The jailer paused and scratched his head, “So you’ve been sent to keep me company?”

“Yep,” Cordelia nodded eagerly, “and the wine!”

“I never thought the King even knew I existed,” the jailer was now making no secret about looking down the front of Cordelia’s dress as he stood next to her and ran his hand down her back to rest on her butt.

“Well,” Cordelia smiled and suppressed the shiver of revulsion that threatened to pass through her body and spoil everything, “he might only have one eye, but he isn’t called ‘the one who sees’ for nothing.”

“He isn’t?” the jailer brought his free hand round to rest on Cordelia’s boob.

“Oh yeah,” Cordelia smiled like a maniac and nodded her head vigorously, “well known for it…why don’t you try the wine then we can go somewhere more comfortable.”

“Yeah,” grinned the jailer as he took his hand off Cordelia’s breast and picked up the wine jug.

“We are alone down here, right?” Cordelia asked as she watched the man raise the jug to his lips.

“Oh yeah,” the jailer chuckled, “quite alone.”

“Oh good,” Cordelia watched as the man started to drink from the jug, “OOOPS!” she said as she thrust the knife into the jailer’s stomach, “Clumsy, clumsy Cordy!”

“UUUGH!” Cried the jailer in disappointment as he looked at Cordelia in wide eyed surprise, “Fuck you bitch!”

“Not tonight you won’t,” Cordelia quipped.

Much to Cordelia’s surprise the jailer tried to hit her with the wine jug. Twisting the knife in the man’s belly, she pulled it free and stabbed him once again.

“Ewww!” Cordelia squealed as the jailer’s blood squirted over her hand and across the front of her dress, “Gross, and this is my best dress too!”

Even as Cordelia pulled the knife from the jailer’s body and he collapsed slowly to his knees he managed to run his hand over her breast again.

“Oooh!” Cordelia’s entire body shivered with disgust, “That’s soooo totally icky!”

Kneeling down and stabbing the jailer for a third time, Cordelia took the bunch of keys from his belt and moved towards the only cell that had its door closed. Quickly going through the keys until she found the right one, Cordelia opened the door and stepped inside.

“Dawn?” She called urgently.

“CORDY!” Dawn squeaked happily as she grabbed her friend and hugged her excitedly, “Oh, thank-you Cordy! Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you!” Dawn planted a big kiss on Cordelia’s lips, “I’ll never be mean to you again!”

“Yeah, right, whatever,” Cordelia fought off the excited girl, “come on we’ve got to get out of here.”

“Yeah, right!” Dawn headed for the door but stopped after only a single pace, turning back into the cell she looked heavenwards once more. “Thanks Ishtar, I promise I won’t forget this!”

Following Cordelia, Dawn found herself being led through storerooms and kitchens, no one seemed to pay them very much attention. Eventually they came to a door at the end of a long corridor. Pushing the door open the two young women stepped out into a garden.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Dawn whispered as she looked around warily at the bushes and flowers, “but where are all the guards?”

“Drunk I expect,” Cordelia led Dawn by the hand across a well tended lawn, “now if my information is correct there should be gate just about…here!”

Cordelia had spent ten minutes with a clammy handed kitchen boy who’d been quite willing to tell Cordelia all about the layout of the palace grounds and the best ways of sneaking out. Cordelia knew he had clammy hands because the price for all this information was to let him fondle her breasts, the things she did for people, she must be a saint. Stepping through the small gate, they found themselves on a deserted street in the town. The sounds of merry making drifted on the night air to their ears from their right.

“So where are we going?” Dawn asked, it appeared that the most sensible thing to do was to leave town quickly, “Shall we go to the harbour and steal a boat or something?”

“Can you sail?” Cordelia asked as they hurried along the street passed darkened, empty houses.

“No,” Dawn shook her head.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Cordelia paused to look at Dawn and grin. “What say we go steal this fleece thing that Xander, two-timing, Harris is so worried about?” 

“What do we want with a smelly, old fleece?” Dawn asked puzzled.

“It’s gold,” Cordelia replied succinctly.

“Oh!” Dawn thought about this for a moment, “Oh, all right then!”

0=0=0=0

A note about Dawn’s Goddess, Ishtar.  
Also known as ISTAR

Sky Goddess of Sex, Love and Fertility, she's a feisty no-nonsense Goddess — and also the Evening Star with eight points, all of them good. 

Being a Love Goddess, ISHTAR is beautiful, sexy and very popular. Her fame in ancient Asia was second to none and she's still going strong. Her lovers are legion — or, to put it another way, she can't keep her hands to herself; she even attempted to have a fling with GILGAMESH but he went all heroic on her. 

Her official husband — at least in Akkadia — is TAMMUZ, the God of Agriculture and Rebirth. It's possible the strain is too much for him as he spends six months per year recovering in the Underworld. 

ISHTAR seems also to have become the Goddess of Deja Vu as she shared almost the same life as INANNA. But considering that INANNA stole ME, the Tablets of Destiny, she may well have used them to both backdate and update herself — until she was everywhere and everyone from ASTARTE to ISIS; she may even have been born again as APHRODITE. 

ISHTAR's sister ERESHKIGAL is in charge of the Underworld. Ishtar is also Goddess of the Evening Star and seems determined to stay in the ascendancy as long as a sex Goddess is needed. Her symbol is an 8-pointed star.

Notes taken from www.godchecker.com


	21. Chapter 21

21.

**Somewhere on the North African Coast.**

It was almost dawn by the time Dawn and Cordelia had reached the grotto where the fleece was kept. After escaping the palace the two young women had made their way through Colchis to the coast. Heading west they hurried along the sandy beach for a couple of miles until they came to a wide, tree lined gully or small valley with a stream that emptied into the sea. After pausing to drink, they then made their way up stream along a well trodden path that led between the overhanging trees until they came to a grotto.

“I’m tired,” Dawn slumped down on a handy bolder and gave every impression of never wanting to move again.

“What?” Cordelia stopped and turned to look down a Dawn, “Come on Dawnie,” she tried to jolly her friend into action, “it’s not much further.”

“You know,” Dawn looked up at the older girl, “in the last forty-eight hours I’ve been; attacked by a sea monster, attacked by the woman I’d trusted most in this place who then turns out to be an assassin, ship wrecked, spent the night freezing on a beach, fought a centaur, been confronted by my worst enemy from junior high who I find out is married to the guy I had a major crush on who is now a king!” Dawn took a deep breath, “Then if that’s not enough I’m thrown into a dungeon by said guy and have to be rescued.”

“Your point being?” Cordelia asked her head tilted to one side.

“Well I’m just saying,” Dawn frowned as her shoulders slumped, “I need a couple of minutes to totally catch up with myself and oh yeah; I feel like I want to barf.”

“Probably something you ate,” Cordelia pointed out as she cast urgent glances up and down the pathway.

“You’re probably right,” Dawn rubbed her tummy and took a long, deep breath; feeling the cobwebs being blown away by the fresh air she climbed to her feet again, “all caught up now.”

“Good,” Cordelia started along the path again, “it’s not much further.”

“Just what did you have to do to find all this stuff out?” Dawn asked as she hurried on behind Cordelia.

“Not much,” Cordelia glanced over her shoulder, “the location of the fleece isn’t exactly secret so…”

“So?” Dawn pressed.

“So,” Cordelia sighed heavily, “all I had to do was let this guy grope my boobs.”

“Grope your boobs?” Dawn confirmed, before exclaiming, “Ewww!”

Cordelia pushed a branch out of the way as they walked, she was sure the fleece was only a few yards away now.

“You’re getting to be a real slut in your old age Cordelia Chase,” Dawn grinned with a wicked gleam in her eye, “Maybe I should totally beat you more often!”

“What…?” Cordelia turned to confront Dawn, but anything she might have wanted to say remained unsaid when she saw the look on Dawn’s face; fearing the worst, Cordelia turned to look in the direction that Dawn was staring in and said, “Wow!”

Not six yards away stood the trunk of an old tree and hanging from the trunk’s last remaining branch was the Golden Fleece.

“Yeah,” Dawn agreed, “like, totally wow!”

The early morning sunlight reflected goldly off the girl’s faces as they stood staring at the fleece. Slowly the wonder of it all started to leave their faces; Dawn was the first to speak.

“It’s not as big as I thought it was going to be,” Dawn ran her hand through her tangled hair as she studied the fleece.

“What do you mean?” Cordelia had to admit that it wasn’t quite as spectacular as she thought it was going to be.

“Well,” Dawn paused trying to find the right words, “like, in all the books it’s this big thing with a rams skull and all and…well…this totally looks like a goat’s skin.”

“But it is gold, right?” Cordelia asked wanting reassurance.

“Looks like,” Dawn agreed as she cast her eye around the grotto, something had taken her notice, “you grab the fleece, I’m going over here…”

“Sure, on it,” Cordelia headed towards the tree to retrieve the golden goat’s skin.

While Cordelia was walking over to the tree, Dawn wandered over to where a pile of discarded weapons lay. Picking up a sword she examined it; apart from a little rust on the blade it looked like a good weapon, she wondered why anyone would throw it away.

“Cordy?” Dawn examined the weapon, turning it in her hand and trying a few practice cuts with it.

“What?” Cordelia was looking for something to stand on so she could get at the fleece.

“Have you wondered why the fleece is just hanging there?” Dawn walked slowly across the grotto, sword in hand, to join Cordelia.

“Hmm?” Cordelia was dragging a stone over to the tree; it would give her just enough height so she could get hold of the fleece and pull in down.

“Like I’m thinking,” Dawn paused to watch Cordelia move the stone into place, “if this fleece thing is so important, why isn’t it guarded?”

“What?” Cordelia stepped onto the stone and reached up to grab the fleece as she balanced unsteadily on her ersatz stool.

“Like, if the welfare of the kingdom relies so heavily on the fleece,” Dawn looked around as she took a firmer hold on her new sword, “where are all the soldiers to guard it? I mean we’ve not even been stopped by a watchman or anyone.”

“Whatever,” Cordelia reached up, took a handful of fleece in her hand and pulled, “OH!” She cried as the fleece came free and fell on her head, she stumbled from her stone, “Help!”

“Here!” Dawn grabbed Cordelia around the waist with her free hand and saved her from a nasty fall.

“Jeez that’s heavy,” Cordelia struggled to hold up the fleece, she smiled as she slowly realised what she was holding, “it’s like real gold!”

“Yeah!” Dawn grinned so hard it hurt, “its, like, totally weaved out of golden treads, it must be worth a…”

“HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!”

“…fortune,” with growing apprehension, Dawn looked around trying to find the source of the extra loud hissing, she didn’t have far to look.

“H-Hydra!” Dawn squeaked as she pointed to the seven headed, two tailed snake that ‘stood’ half in and half out of the cave that was obviously its lair.

“AAGH!” Cordelia clutched the fleece to her bosom, “W-what d-do we do?” She demanded of Dawn, “It looks real pissed.”

“We could try giving the fleece back,” with blinding clarity Dawn realised why there were no soldiers guarding the fleece.

“No-way!” Cordelia held onto the fleece protectively, “I’ve got a better idea,” she explained as the snake started to undulate towards them it seven heads taking it in turn to hiss and snap at them, “Why don’t you kill it?”

“Me?” Dawn looked at her friend in shock, “Why me?”

“You’ve got the sword,” Cordelia pointed out the obvious.

“Yeah,” Dawn had to admit, she had the sword so… “Hey! Wait up there, you’re the oldest, you should kill it!” By now the girls were slowly backing away from the Hydra as it continued its steady, hissing advance. “Look,” Dawn had realised that someone was going to have to do something and it looked like she’d been elected, “maybe there’s a way out of this without…AAAGH!”

Leaping away from the striking snake, Dawn jumped right as Cordelia jumped left, this appeared to confuse the snake. While the Hydra’s heads seemed to be having an argument over who it should eat first, Dawn came up with a plan.

“Cordy!” she called as she pointed to the other side of the grotto, “I’ll distract it and you head for that path over there.”

“Okay!” Cordelia looked to see where Dawn was pointing; sure enough there was a path leading up the side of the wall of the grotto; it looked too narrow for the snake to follow so she should be safe.

Having finally decided to go after Cordelia, the Hydra turned away from Dawn and went after the girl with the fleece. Realising what was going on, Dawn stepped forward and struck at the hydra’s tail, her sword bounced as if she’d hit rubber. But, on the plus side she’d distracted it enough so that four of its heads turned to snap at her. Taking a few wild swings at the hydra’s heads, Dawn backed up as the giant snake turned to face her. Forced back across the grotto, Dawn continued to take frantic swipes at the snake, but she never connected as the heads moved too fast for her to hit.

“Stand back and have a good slash!” Cordelia shouted encouragement from the other side of the grotto; she was within feet of the pathway to safety now.

“What?” Dawn called back.

“With your sword! With your sword!” Cordelia mimed attacking the hydra.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Dawn demanded.

All this shouting back and forth once again confused the hydra as to who it was supposed to attack first. Looking over at Cordelia with a couple of its heads, it caught the glint of gold from the fleece in her arms. Remembering it was supposed to protect the fleece the hydra turned to go after the thief.

“HEEEEELP!” Cordelia cried as she realised she’d called the monster onto herself.

Springing forward, Dawn stabbed her sword into one of the creature’s tails. Screaming hideously the snake turned like lightning to loom over Dawn. Caught by surprise at the speed of the hydra’s counter attack, Dawn back peddled frantically trying to get out of range of the snakes snapping, hissing heads. Catching her foot on a loose rock she fell onto her butt. The snake towered over her doing the giant snake equivalent of maniacal laughter as it poised itself ready to snuff out Dawn’s all too short life.

In desperation, Dawn thrust her sword upwards into the snake’s chest. The sword blade slid easily into the snake’s soft underbelly. Its heads hissed and writhed in pain as Dawn plunged her sword again and again into the snake’s body. Blood spurted, as the hydra’s body spasmed and coiled around itself. Pulling herself to her feet Dawn stood panting and triumphant over the monster.

“There!” Dawn panted as she stood over her defeated foe, “I always said I could so save the world and I didn’t even need super-powers!”

Just then an arrow whistled by her ear and bounced off the rocks behind her.

“Oh great!” Dawn looked up to see King Xander his wife and his soldier’s arrive in the grotto, “Now the soldiers turn up!”

Ducking the arrows as the buzzed about her ears, Dawn dodged across the grotto to where Cordelia waited for her at the foot of the path.

“LET’S GET THE FLEECE OUTTA HERE!” She cried as they started to run up the path towards what they hoped would be safety.

0=0=0=0

“After them Captain,” Xander pointed to where the two fleece thieves were disappearing up the track.

Leading half a dozen men forward the officer gave chase as his king had ordered. Following his men into the clearing, Xander came to a shocked halt as his eye took in the dead hydra and the branch that was completely devoid of fleeces, golden or otherwise.

“Typical klepto Dawn!” Xander exclaimed, “When I catch her and that slave of hers I’ll have them both crucified in the public square!”

“Wait, my husband!” Kirstie strode into the grotto to stand next to her husband, “Like I have a totally better plan.”

“If it involves the slow and painful deaths of those two thieving bitches I’m all ears,” Xander smiled down at his beautiful, loyal wife.

“Tell your men to totally stand well away from like the hydra’s body, oh husband mine,” Kirstie smiled evilly as Xander called his men who weren’t employed in chasing thieves back to what he thought was a safe distance.

Stepping forward, Kirstie raised her arms to the sky as she looked up into the heavens.

“Hecate, Queen of Darkness!” Kirstie intoned as great dark clouds rolled across the sky blotting out the morning sun. “Totally avenge yourself against those thieving whores!” Thunder rumbled ominously above her head, “Give to me like the children of the hydra’s teeth.” Kirstie took a deep breath before calling out in a voice like doom, “THE CHILDREN OF THE NIGHT…much!”

Lightning flashed in great forks across the darkened skies as thunderbolts streaked earthwards to hit the hydra’s body engulfing it in flame. Standing back in fear the soldiers cringed as the holy flames swallowed up the hydra’s body and reduced its flesh to ashes.

“Hey!” Xander glanced at his most favourite of wives, “That’s a neat trick!”

“Whatever,” Kirstie shrugged as she watched the hydra’s bones slowly cool under the sharp shower of rain the goddess had sent to put out the fire. “The teeth!” Kirstie pointed at the bones of the snake, “Totally fetch me the hydra’s teeth!”

The soldier’s glanced at their king to see what they should do.

“Go on,” Xander shrugged, he didn’t know what his wife had in mind but he might as well see it through, “do what the queen says,” when he saw the soldiers hesitate again he added, “quickly.”

Rushing forward several soldiers fell to extracting the teeth of the hydra using the pommels of their swords to break them loose. Collecting all the teeth together they placed them in a helmet and presented them to Queen Kirstie. Taking the helmet from the soldier, Kirstie picked out one of the teeth to examine it.

“Against the children of the hydra’s teeth, like, there’s totally no protection,” she told everyone.

“Yeah, like that’s as maybe,” Xander pointed out, “but first we have to catch them.”

“This way,” Kirstie pointed to another path, “I know where that path leads,” she smiled at Xander imagining how they’d celebrate once they caught Summers and her slave, “this one is a short cut.”

“Don’t you just love it?” Xander said to no one in particular as he made his way across the grotto, “There’s always a short cut to head the bad guys off at the pass!”

0=0=0=0

Hiding behind the wall of the old ruined temple at the top of the path, Dawn lashed out with her sword. Catching the scout across the throat with her blade, she watched him stumble and fall as blood oozed over his hands as they fumbled at his throat.

“Come on!” Cordelia cried, “Stop messing around playing the hero will you?”

“Hey!” Dawn complained as she ran over to where Cordelia hid with the fleece, “I totally had to slow him down, right?”

“Yeah,” Cordelia glanced at the now still body, “I think he’s totally slowed, now come on before his friends get here.”

“So,” Dawn jogged on along side Cordelia, “where are we going?”

“I don’t know,” Cordelia shot back, “I’m just running away, you’re the princess you decide!”

“Hey,” Dawn stopped and caught hold of Cordelia’s arm pulling her to a halt, “what do you mean you totally don’t know?”

“Whatever,” Cordelia shrugged, “we can work it out later.”

“But…” Dawn watched for a moment as Cordelia started running again, after a moments thought she followed.

Coming around a large section of broken down wall they saw what looked like another path heading in what might be in the right direction. Turning towards it they pulled up short as the helmets of soldiers appeared out of the grass followed moments later by their bodies and all their really sharp weapons.

“Crap!” Cordelia gasped as she and Dawn slid to a halt, “Where did they spring from?”

“Get back…!” Dawn pulled on her friend’s arm trying to pull her back into the shelter of the ruins.

“It’s no use Dawnie,” Cordelia sighed, “we’re surrounded.”

“Hades!” Dawn cursed as she brought up her blood stained sword ready to fight to the death, “They’re not taking me alive,” Dawn’s voice was low and determined, “fleece stealing is probably a crucifying offence ‘round these parts.”

“Yeah,” Cordelia agreed as she dropped the fleece and pulled her short knife; it wasn’t much but she could stab herself with it before they grabbed her.

Pushing through the line of soldiers, Kirstie stood for a moment clutching a helmet under her arm. With a self-satisfied smile on her face she took a couple of paces towards Dawn and Cordelia.

“Summers!” Kirstie sneered in true evil genius manner, “At last we meet!”

“What!?” Dawn frowned at the girl, “What do you mean? We met ages ago.”

“Whatever,” Kirstie held up her arm and glanced over her shoulder at her husband’s soldiers, “Hold the guards back, Captain, or they may die with Summers and her slave.”

“If she laughs maniacally,” Dawn whispered, “I’ll going over there and stabbing her I’m not going to wait to hear what she’s got to say.”

“Right on,” Cordelia agreed clutching her own knife tightly.

Walking to within a couple of yards of where Dawn and Cordelia stood, Kirstie reached into the helmet under her arm and took out a handful of teeth. Starting to scatter them on the ground she walked backwards away from the fleece rustlers.

“What the Hades is she doing?” Dawn asked quietly.

“I don’t know but it’s probably nothing we’ll like,” Cordelia replied her voice trembling slightly.

“Totally rise up you dead,” Kirstie told the teeth as they fell into the dust, “like, slain of the hydra. Totally rise from your graves and totally avenge us, much!” Another handful of teeth joined the first on the ground, “Those who steal the Golden Fleece must totally DIE!” This time Kirstie did laugh maniacally, “MAW-HA-HA!”

“What the Hades?” Cordelia frowned, “Did she do that sort of thing at school, coz if she did I could see how you wouldn’t get along!”

By the time Kirstie had finished speaking she’d emptied all the teeth out onto the ground and everyone was standing around waiting for something to happen, nothing did.

“Looks like she screwed up,” Dawn pointed out as she glanced at Cordelia, “Look, Cordy, I’ll stay here and delay them you make a run for it, there’s no point us both dying.

“Delay them?” Cordelia flashed a grin at her friend, “What for, like one second?”

“Hey!” Dawn turned an angry look on Cordelia, “I can totally hold them up for longer than that and hey,” Dawn sniffed haughtily, “I’m still the princess and you’re still my slave so for once in your freaking life do as you’re told!”

“Look,” Cordelia drew Dawn’s attention back to the teeth.

“There!” After a rather embarrassingly long wait, which had Xander frowning at his wife, Kirstie pointed to where the earth started to move a few feet away, a skeletal warrior complete with sword and shield appeared from the ground. “And there!” again she pointed to another patch of disturbed earth as another armed skeleton climbed to its feet to stand next to its brother.

“There’s another!” Kirstie cried excitedly, for a moment back there she’d thought that the spell had failed and she’d have to stand there looking foolish while Xander dealt with Summers and her slave. “AND MORE!” she cheered as yet another long dead warrior rose from his grave.

“Ishtar save me!” Dawn whispered as she gazed on the animated bone yard in front of her.

“And me,” Cordelia pleaded.

There were now seven skeletal warriors facing the two young women.

“Run Cordy, run,” Dawn ordered as she dropped into a fighting crouch.

“No-way!” Cordelia replied, “You want all the fun for yourself?”

When no more warriors appeared, Kirstie made her way over to one side of the skeleton phalanx and pointed at the fleece stealing interlopers.

“Destroy them!” Kirstie called; none of the warriors moved, “Kill!” She ordered still no one and nothing moved.

“Kirstie, honey,” Xander called from over by his soldiers, “that was like mega impressive but I don’t think it’s gonna work, why don’t you let me and…”

“KILL, KILL, KILL THEM ALL!” Kirstie screamed with mounting frustration; this it seemed was all that was needed to goad the warriors into action.

Slowly the skeletons started to walk purposefully towards their victims as they brought their weapons up to the ready. As the skeletons advanced, Dawn and Cordelia slowly started to give ground, their eyes wide with disbelief as the warriors continued their advance. Suddenly, with an eerie, unearthly scream the skeletons charged at their victims.

0=0=0=0


	22. Chapter 22

22.

“RUN AWAY!” Dawn cried as the skeletons rattled towards herself and Cordelia.

Turning, Cordelia bent to pick up the fleece from where she’d dropped it and then ran after her mistress. Running as fast as they could the two young women made their way through the ruined temple until they came out on to the slope on the far side of the ruins. Looking down the rock and bush strewn incline, they paused for a moment; they could hear the dry clatter of the skeletal warrior’s bones as they followed them through the ancient temple.

“Come-on,” Dawn started down the slope, “it’s our only hope!”

“What ever happened to fighting to the death?” Cordelia wanted to know as she scrambled down the hillside after Dawn.

“I thought running away was a totally better option!” Dawn explained as she slid down hill on her butt.

Coming to the bottom of the hill, Dawn and Cordelia hitched up their skirts and ran for their lives. They rapidly came to a wall around an olive orchard; climbing over the wall they hid on the other side, gasping as they tried to catch their breath.

“We can’t go on like this forever,” Cordelia pointed out as she sat beside Dawn panting like a dog.

“Look,” Dawn took deep breaths in between her words, “this is an olive orchard right?”

“Yeah,” Cordelia nodded her head.

“Like, that must mean there’s a village near by,” Dawn had almost caught her breath by now, “maybe we can find a boat and escape like that. I mean,” she grinned, “I bet skeletons can’t swim.”

Peeping over the wall Cordelia saw the skeletons tumble and stumble to the foot of the slope. They picked themselves up, reattached a few bones that had come adrift and readied their weapons once more as they started to look around for their quarry. Spotting Cordelia’s head peeping over the wall, one of them pointed with its sword and started running to where Cordelia hid.

“Crap!” Cordelia snapped angrily at herself, “They saw me,” she looked apologetically at Dawn, “sorry.”

“Never mind,” Dawn pushed herself to her feet, “I’ll beat you for it later! In the mean time, slave, RUN!”

Running between the olive vines the two women appeared to be making good progress and they were outpacing their pursuers. They only stopped again when they came up to the blank wall of a building.

“Damn!” Dawn gasped.

“Must be that village you were talking about,” Cordelia panted as she came to a halt next Dawn, “which way?”

“How come I have to make all the life or death decisions?” Dawn asked as she looked left and right trying to work out which way to go.

“You’re the princess, remember?” Cordelia explained, “It comes with the territory.”

“I hate being the princess,” Dawn sulked as she pointed with her sword to the right, “this way!”

Trotting along the line of the wall, they could hear the skeleton warband crashing through the orchard not far behind them. After what felt like forever they came to the end of the wall and found a dusty track leading into the village proper.

“This way,” Dawn urged as she pulled Cordelia along the track behind her, “come on Cordelia, I thought you cheerleaders were fit!”

“We are,” Cordelia stumbled on behind Dawn breathing heavily, “but we don’t have to carry golden fleeces around with us when we cheer.”

“What?” In all the panic Dawn had forgotten that Cordelia was carrying the Golden Fleece; for a moment she considered telling Cordelia to dump it, instead she grabbed hold of one corner and took some of the weight from her friend, “Come on, Cordy we’ll get out of this.”

Within the next few moments, Dawn was proved to be a liar. Turning down a little street in the hopes that it would lead them to the coast and a possible means of escape. The two young women came up against a tall blank wall at the end of the alley.

“It’s a dead end!” Cordelia cried.

“CRAP!” Dawn wasn’t pleased, “Who the freaking Hades builds dead ends in tiny places like this?”

Turning in preparation of running out onto the main street again Cordelia was the first to see the skeletons that had blocked their escape route.

“Erm, Dawnie?” Cordelia called with a trembling voice, “Looks like we’re going to find out why they call them _dead_ ends.”

“W-what?” Dawn turned to see the skeletons grinning at them as they readied their weapons for some bloody butchery.

“What do we do now?” Cordelia asked.

“Maybe…” Dawn looked left and right at the surrounding houses; all their walls were bereft of doors and windows.

The wall was far too high for them to climb, they had one slightly rusty sword and small dagger to defend themselves with, there didn’t appear to be anyway out. Cordelia looked at her friend and saw the hopelessness on her face, she realised in that moment that she was going to die, yet strangely she felt pretty calm about it.

“So,” Cordelia swallowed the big lump in her throat, “this is it, we’re going to die?”

“Looks like, Cordy,” Dawn hefted her sword in her hand and resigned herself to her immanent death; she’d at least go down fighting, make her sister proud. “This about totally wraps it up for this life time…unless…”

“What?” Cordelia turned to look a Dawn hopefully as the skeletons continued their slow menacing advance.

“No…sorry, thought I had something there,” Dawn shrugged her shoulders, “oh-well,” she sighed, “here goes…”

Just as Dawn steeled herself to rush at the skeletons, she thought that maybe, perhaps she could distract them long enough to allow Cordelia to escape, something very odd happened. Seemingly out of nowhere a pack of large yellow dogs appeared and leaped on the skeletons from behind. There was a short struggle as the dogs growled and the skeletons screamed silently as they were dragged to the ground. After only a few moments, the growling and snarling of the dogs was replaced by the sound of contented gnawing on bones.

“Now that’s something you totally don’t see every day,” Dawn said quietly.

“Yeah, right,” Cordelia replied more than a little stunned by the turn in her fortunes.

Quietly, so as not to disturb the hounds, the two young women edged past the happy dogs as they crunched their way through the remains of the skeletons. Once out on the street again, they turned right towards where they hoped the sea was.

“Quick Cordy,” Dawn called, “Xander and his little slut are still out there.”

Making their way quickly through the village, Dawn started to wonder where all the people were. Realising that should they bump into said villagers, being seen carrying the Golden Fleece probably wouldn’t do much for their survival prospects. Seeing a length of cloth that had been left out to dry in the morning sun, Dawn grabbed it as she passed and handed it to Cordelia telling her to wrap the fleece up in it. With the fleece safely hidden they pushed on until they came to a small harbour.

The harbour appeared to contain the entire population of the village, and Dawn could see why. The villagers obviously made their living from fishing and everyone was needed to push the fishing boats off the shingle beach and into the deep, blue waters of the Mediterranean. While all this was very interesting, what Dawn found even more interesting was the cargo ship tied up along side the small pier that jutted out from the beach.

“That’s our ticket out of here,” Dawn smiled as she strode towards the little ship.

“And how are we going to pay for our tickets?” Cordelia asked suspiciously.

“Don’t worry,” Dawn smiled over her shoulder at Cordelia, “I've totally got a plan.”

Dawn did indeed have a plan, but it sort of depended on the captain of the ship being a decent sort of guy who wouldn’t just rape them, cut their throats, throw them over the side for the fishes and steal the fleece. It was a lot to ask but Dawn lived in hope. Making their way over to the pier and up to a sailor who was guarding the side of the ship, Dawn pulled her shoulders back and tried to look as princess-like as she could. This wasn’t very easy as her dress was torn and she looked dusty and dishevelled.

“I’m the Lady Aurora,” Dawn announced as haughtily as she could while at the same time fulfilling the promise she’d made to stop dragging Princess Roshan’s name in the dust. “I demand to see the captain of this vessel.”

“Erm,” the sailor obviously didn’t know what to make of the young woman before him; while she looked as if she’d been dragged through a thorn bush, she did sound like a lady of quality, but what was the clincher as far as he was concerned was the sword in her hand. “Wait ‘ere, your ladyship, I’ll get ‘im for ye.”

Adding a quiet ‘Arrrrrrrr’ to himself the sailor climbed aboard the ship and went in search of the captain.

“Hey that was good,” Cordelia announced, “but how do you intend to pay for our ticket.”

“Well,” Dawn turned to Cordelia with an impish grin on her face, “I was planning to sell you to the Captain and use the money to get me to Italy!”

“Why you!” Cordelia dropped the bundle containing the fleece and was just about punch Dawn when the captain arrived with the first sailor still in tow.

“You’re the Captain?” Dawn asked ignoring Cordelia’s black looks for the moment.

“Arrrrrrrr, that I be, that I be,” replied the senior sailor, “Captain Ahab be me name, Arrrrrrr!” Captain Ahab was a tall man with one mad staring eye, wild red hair and a beard; he also had a wooden leg and a hook where one of his hands was missing, “Known in these waters as ‘Lucky Ahab’, Arrrrrr!”

Thinking she’d made a very bad mistake, Dawn also realised that Captain ‘Lucky’ Ahab was probably their only way out. Casting a worried look over her shoulder Dawn half expected King Xander, his wife and soldiers to appear on the beach.

“Look,” Dawn said in a business-like voice, “I haven’t got much time, how much to take me and my slave to Italy?”

If the Captain said, ‘One slave girl’ Cordelia was going to stab Dawn right there between the shoulder blades.

“Arrrrrr,” Arrrr-ed Captain Ahab in thought as he scratched his beard with his hook, “It be very unlucky to take women aboard ship, Arrrrr.”

“Okay,” Dawn sighed, “if I bought the ship and hired the crew would that deal with any ‘luck’ issues you might have?”

“Arrrrrrrrrr!” Replied Ahab.

“Sorry?” Dawn frowned up at the man.

“That’d be a ‘yes’, Arrrrr,” Ahab clarified.

“How much?” Dawn demanded as visions of Xander’s soldiers arriving any second filled her mind.

“Oooh-Arrrr,” once again the captain scratched his beard, “ye old ‘Porcus Nigrum’ be a good sturdy ship, Arrrr,” Ahab nodded his head in agreement with himself and eyed Cordelia with a lust filled eye.

“The slave girl is not on the table,” Dawn announced as Cordelia breathed a sigh of relief, “now how much?”

“Well…” Ahab cast his eye over the two women wondering what they intended to pay with.

“Oh!” Dawn grabbed the bundle from Cordelia and pulled some of the cloth aside exposing the fleece, “I haven’t got time to mess about,” she snapped, “one Golden Fleece enough?”

“But!” Cordelia squeaked in alarm as the bundle was snatched out of her hands.

“Sold!” Captain Ahab took the bundle from Dawn and grinned down at her.

This, thought Dawn, is where she found out whether she’d just saved their lives or made an incredibly bad mistake.

“So, Domina,” Captain Ahab bowed slightly in Dawn’s direction, “what be ye first orders, Arrrrr.”

“How quickly can you get under way?” Dawn asked as she tried not to show how worried she’d been.

“As quickly as ye likes,” replied Ahab.

“Good!” Dawn stepped aboard her ship, “cast off or whatever it is you do and sail east, I’ll give you the rest of your orders later.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Cordelia whispered angrily, “We’ve got no money now!”

“Careful Cordy,” Dawn warned as she watched the sailors run around doing whatever sailors did to get a ship going, “remember its mistress and slave here.”

To be honest, Dawn was getting a little fed up with Cordelia making her make all the life and death decisions and then questioning everything she did when there wasn’t anyone trying to kill them.

“Oh yeah!” Cordelia hissed back, “there’s always that and whatever happened to ‘I’ll take off that collar as soon as I can’?”

“Be careful Cordy,” Dawn warned the older girl, “don’t say anything you’ll regret later.”

“I’m already ‘regretting’ it,” Cordelia snapped, “you’ve given away the fleece what are we going to do for money when we get to Italy?”

“I’ve thought of that,” Dawn announced with a very superior look on her face.

“You have?” Cordelia replied wondering what plan Dawn could have come up with to save them from gang rape and murder the instant they set foot in Italy.

“Yeah, totally,” Dawn smirked drawing out the torture.

“Well?” Cordelia demanded urgently.

“I don’t know if I should tell you,” Dawn turned away and looked out over the sea, “seeing how you question everything I do.”

“I’m sorry,” Cordelia didn’t sound very sorry but she was sorry a little bit, after all her fate was inexorably connected to Dawn’s.

“Look,” Dawn watched as the sailors stuck long oars out into the water, “remember Kirstie’s jewels?” Cordelia nodded her head slowly, “Like, we totally go back and find them; I mean they’ll see us through for like ages…”

“What if they’re not there any more?” Cordelia thought she’d seen a flaw in Dawn’s plan.

“Not a problem,” Dawn smiled smugly, “we can always sell the ship!”

“Oh!” Cordelia hadn’t thought of that; she looked at Dawn with new respect.

Perhaps, Cordelia thought, just perhaps, Dawn did know what she was doing. So far the only big mistake she’d made was trusting that two-timing-evil-bastard Xander Harris and she couldn’t have know he’d turn out to be such an unmitigated swine. So-so maybe she should give Dawn some slack, so far she hadn’t done too badly, they were still both alive so that was a major plus.

“I’m sorry…” the words almost stuck in Cordelia’s throat, “…Domina, I didn’t mean to be such an ungrateful bitch.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Dawn watched the water slip by as they headed out to sea, “like; ‘ungrateful bitch’ is totally your default setting!”

0=0=0=0

“Damn it!” Xander cursed as he watched the ship with Dawn and her slave aboard sail out to the sea, “We’ll go back to Colchis and send the navy out after them.”

“Whatever,” Kirstie shrugged as she stood by Xander’s side.

“What!?” Xander turned and looked down at the blonde girl by his side, “They stole the fleece the entire country is about to collapse around our ears and you say ‘whatever’!”

“Its not important,” Kirstie shrugged, “we can make a new fleece.”

“Hey! What?” Xander’s mouth moved as he tried to get out the words he wanted to say, they didn’t come so he closed his mouth took a deep breath and asked, “New fleece?”

“You didn’t totally believe all that stuff about it being like ‘god-given’, did you?” Kirstie watched her husband for a moment.

“Weeell…” Xander shifted uncomfortably in his armour.

“You totally did, didn’t you!?” Kirstie laughed, but cut her amusement short when she saw the dark look on Xander’s face. “Look,” Kirstie started to explain, “years ago when Colchis was like, nowheres-ville the old High Priestess had like this totally wicked idea…”

Over the next few minutes Kirstie explained how the High Priestess had had the Golden Fleece made. Next she’d presented it to the king saying how the gods had given it to Colchis and it would guarantee good fortune, peace and prosperity to the city. Over the next few years, as the economy improved (which was probably going to happen anyway) Colchis got richer and people started to believe in the fleece.

“I mean,” Kirstie smiled at her husband, “who knows it’s like totally gone?”

Xander looked around at the dozen or so soldiers he had with him.

“Only you, me and these guys,” Kirstie turned her dazzling smile on the soldiers, “and they’re not going to say anything once they’ve all been promoted and they totally know what I’d do to them if they did talk,” Kirstie eyed the now worried soldiers with a malicious eye, “don’t you guys?”

“Yes majesty,” the soldiers chorused as they all nodded their heads.

“So,” Xander turned away from the sea and started to walk back inland, “you’re saying all we have to do is make a new fleece and everything will go back to normal?”

“Why not?” Kirstie asked.

Thinking about it for a moment Xander couldn’t actually think ‘why not’.

“All we totally have to say,” Kirstie explained as she walked along beside her husband, “is that we chased and totally killed two dangerous criminals that were going to steal the fleece and then totally carry on like before, no one will totally know any better. I mean Summers and her slave won’t come back and say we’re lying and if they do we’ll have a totally brand new fleece to show the people.”

“By the gods you’re clever,” Xander placed his arm around his wife’s shoulder, “I’m glad I married you.”

“Oh and there’s one other thing,” Kirstie put her own arm around Xander’s waist, “isn’t it time we had a baby? I mean the city’s totally going to need an heir to the throne…”

As they walked back towards where they’d left the horses, the king and high priestess of Colchis made plans for making babies and new Golden Fleeces. Finding that he was quite looking forward to the prospect of fatherhood, Xander spoke about all the things that he and his son would do together. By his side Kirstie was also deep in thought. The idea of having babies didn’t worry her, she was totally old enough and there were some good midwives in Colchis; of course they’d have to be some changes at the palace. The king’s other wives would have to go, not all at once but over a period of time until eventually Kirstie would be the only woman to share the king’s bed. Then when she’d presented the king with a son and heir, her power and influence would only increase until she would be able to rule through her son. After all King Xander was _bound_ to die long before she would and before her son was old enough to take the throne without his mother at his side…wouldn’t he?

0=0=0=0


	23. Chapter 23

23.

**Tarentum.**

Tarentum; jewel of the Mediterranean…well, not exactly. Tarentum was a sleepy little port situated about where the heel of Italy joins the arch of the Italian boot. Originally built on a small peninsular by the Greeks several hundred years earlier, it had seen better days. Now most of the trade that Tarentum used to rely on went to Brundisium on the eastern coast of the ‘heel’; it was a much bigger port and closer to Greece. The little city contained perhaps 20,000 citizens, freedmen and slaves and boasted an arena that could seat three or four-thousand.

As it turned out Captain ‘Lucky’ Ahab, was a decent type of man. At no point did he or his crew try to gang rape either Dawn or Cordelia. Neither did anyone cut their throats and push their beaten, abused and lifeless bodies over the side to feed the fishes. The captain did, however, cast Cordelia lustful looks throughout the voyage. Dawn was convinced that had she been so inclined she could have easily sold Cordy to the sailor for a lot more than she’d paid for her. 

After leaving King Xander and his little bitch of a wife behind them at the fishing village, the girls sailed down the coast passed Colchis to the stretch of coast where they’d originally been washed up. After several hours of searching they found what looked like the right beach and then worked their way west until they thought they’d found the place where Dawn and Cordelia had fought the centaur. 

After having to wait until the dawn of the next day, Dawn went ashore, with two sailors, to find the old campsite and the jewels they’d hidden when Kirstie had vanished into thin air. Still aboard ship Cordelia spent an uncomfortable couple of hours with the captain mentally undressing her with his one good eye and making suggestive gestures with his wooden leg. Having managed to resist the captain’s charms, Cordelia was overjoyed to see Dawn being rowed back to the ship along with the little horde of treasure courtesy of Queen Kirstie.

This turned out to be the last time either young woman set foot ashore until they docked at Tarentum. After an uneventful voyage untroubled by monsters, pirates or storms, Dawn, with some help from Captain Ahab, sold the ship and its cargo (a shipment of wine and grain which brought in more than a fair price) and paid off the captain and his crew. Waving a cheery goodbye to the seafarers, Dawn and Cordelia (now quite wealthy women) set off into the town to find a hotel.

After staying at the Inviso-mare Hotel for just over a week in lively, downtown Tarentum, Dawn bought a pleasant little villa on the outskirts of the city; she explained to Cordelia that it was better to buy instead of rent. While renting was cheaper in the short term, after awhile it became a drain on your resources. If you bought, however, you could always sell when you wanted to move on and the chances were that you’d get more than you’d paid.

Not really understanding the ins and outs of the property market, Cordelia let Dawn get on with it and continued to play the slave to Dawn’s ‘Lady’. If the truth was told, Cordelia was quite happy to let Dawn take the lead in most things, the girl seemed to know what she was doing most of the time and was way better at handling money than Cordelia had ever been. Back at home Cordelia was happy to let her father make all the money while she and her mother spent it.

Here, things were different; not having money left a woman with two stark choices, marriage or prostitution, neither of which appealed to Cordelia right at that moment. If by letting Dawn (or as she was now more generally know, ‘Lady Aurora’) take the lead in all things while Cordelia took a back seat meant that there was food on the table and a roof over her head, then she was quite happy to be Dawn’s personal slave.

After all her duties weren’t exactly arduous; not long after moving into their new home, Dawn had rented a cook and a couple of girls to clean the house and generally help out. Renting slaves, she’d told Cordelia, was better than buying because well trained slaves were expensive and you were then responsible for them. Dawn also admitted that she didn’t want to have to sell someone that she might have grown fond of because she couldn’t afford to keep them anymore.

0=0=0=0

It was now about two and a half months since they first set foot on Italian soil and maybe three months after leaving Judea. The two friends had sort of drifted into a domestic routine but Dawn’s original purpose for coming to Italy, namely rescuing her sister, still loomed in the background like a big, black, loomy cloud.

Setting out the breakfast things one morning, Cordelia looked to see Dawn walking across the dinning room with a sour look on her face as she rubbed her tummy.

“You feeling okay?” Cordelia asked as Dawn sat down and looked at the food in front of her without any great enthusiasm.

“Feeling a little queasy,” Dawn slumped in her chair and frowned at her breakfast, “I don’t feel like eating this morning.”

“You should,” Cordelia sat down next to her friend and started to eat some fruit and yoghurt, “breakfast is the most important meal of the day; or so my mom used to say.”

“You know,” Dawn pulled a face as she watched Cordelia spoon yoghurt into her mouth, “just watching you eat that stuff makes me want to barf.”

“Okay,” Cordelia admitted, “perhaps you’re right, maybe the water’s off. I’ll have cook boil water for you so you don’t have to drink it straight from the well.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Dawn reached over and patted Cordelia on the arm, “sometimes I don’t know what I’d do without you to look after me,” a wide grin slowly spread across Dawn’s face, “Just shows I was totally justified in buying you in the first place and not letting you be crucified in the second.”

“Oh thank-you for reminding me of that!” Cordelia put down her spoon and crossed her arms over her chest in a huff; she didn’t like to be reminded of how Dawn had bought her.

“Which reminds me,” Dawn despite her earlier protestations about not wanting to eat, she started to pick at a small loaf as she ignored Cordelia’s sulk, “we better see about having that slave collar removed.”

“What!?” Cordelia’s hand flew to her throat to feel the silver ring around her neck.

“Yeah,” Dawn nodded as she popped pieces of bread into her mouth, she seemed to have suddenly got her appetite back, “I keep meaning to do it but I totally keep forgetting,” she glanced over at Cordy, “I’d have thought you’d be screaming to have it cut off by now anyway.”

“Yeah,” Cordelia shrugged not exactly showing great enthusiasm for having her collar removed.

The thing was she’d actually grown perversely found of it; she enjoyed the status it gave her as being the personal slave of the rich and beautiful Lady Aurora, the reflected power it gave her. It also made her feel like she was wanted, that she belonged somewhere, that someone cared enough about her to have bought her. These were all feelings that were quite alien to Cordelia Chase, she’d never felt particularly wanted or loved at home. Of course her parents had looked after her and made sure that she never wanted for anything, but…

But whenever she’d gone to any of her girlfriend’s houses and saw them with their moms’, it always made Cordelia feel that there was something missing in her own relationship with her mother. Harmony was a case in point; to be honest, Harmony was a blonde bimbo, an air head who’d never had an original thought in her life, she was a born follower. But her mother loved her without reservation, Cordelia could see it in the woman’s eyes when she looked at her daughter; and seeing those looks made Cordelia feel kind of empty inside.

Perhaps that was why she’d gone out with so many boys. Now, let’s get this straight; contrary to popular myth and despite what her mother might think, Cordelia Chase was not a slut. She might have gone out with a lot of boys (mainly ones from the school’s sports teams) but the number of boys she’d even let get half way to Second Base could be counted on the fingers of one hand. Even then she still had enough fingers left to make a rude gesture which was popular in England.

“What’s up?” Dawn asked interrupting Cordelia’s memories.

“Erm…nothing,” Cordelia flashed Dawn a smile like sunshine, “y’know, I’ve been thinking…”

“That would totally be a first,” Dawn smirked.

“Hey look,” Cordelia replied slightly annoyed, “I have depths, y’know, most of them unplumbed or whatever.”

“Sorry,” Dawn smiled apologetically while stuffing more food into her mouth, “you were saying.”

“Yeah,” Cordy shifted a little on her chair, “do we have to take it off…the collar I mean?”

“I thought you couldn’t wait to get it off,” Dawn gave Cordelia a puzzled frown, “what’s up?”

“Nothings up,” Cordelia shrugged, “I just think I ought to keep it for a while longer is all, you know make our cover story look more real.”

“Hmmm,” Dawn said between bites of a pear, “well if you think we should?” Cordelia nodded her head. “Anyway we need to get it totally changed,” Dawn pointed out, “That one says that you belong to Princess Roshan.”

“Oh yeah!” Again Cordelia’s hand went to her collar again, “Okay then we’ll get it altered.”

“Tell you what,” Dawn stopped eating for a moment, “I know what we’ll do!”

“What?” Cordelia asked suspiciously as she watched Dawn wolf down another small loaf and some goat’s cheese, the girl’s stomach had certainly recovered quickly she told herself.

“I’ll have one made that you can take off by yourself,” Dawn smiled at her clever thought, “it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Okay then,” Cordelia sighed a little sigh of relief; she was still wanted, “do that today?”

“Yeah, why not?” Dawn stopped eating for a moment and belched, “Sorry!” she excused herself before adding, “Another thing we need to do is work out how we can make more money.”

“I thought we had plenty,” Cordelia gave her friend a worried look.

“Oh, plenty’s good, more is better,” Dawn smiled as her food intake slowed down to that of a single plague of locusts. “The money we have won’t last forever and I really don’t want to sell you so, we need to find a way of making more.”

Thinking for a moment, Cordelia guessed that if Dawn had stayed in her old world she’d have grown up to be someone very rich, unlike Cordelia who’d planned on marrying someone very rich…which was still a viable option in the here and now.

“So, what have you come up with,” Cordelia started to clear away the breakfast things while keeping her hands safely away from Dawn’s mouth.

“Nothing yet,” Dawn admitted before sinking her teeth into a peach, “it’s so hard for a woman to be independent in the now.”

“I know what you mean,” Cordelia laughed before asking as she indicated the table swept bare of food, “You feeling better now?”

“Yeah,” Dawn nodded having finished eating, “thanks.” 

Standing, up Dawn happened to look down the front of her dress.

“You know,” she glanced up at Cordelia, “I think my boobs are getting bigger.”

“Huh!” Cordelia started to head towards the kitchen with the breakfast plates, “I’m not surprised with the amount of food you eat,” she paused and glanced back at her ‘mistress’, “you know you could start a famine all my yourself.”

“You know, I think there’s a slave that needs a good beating somewhere around here,” Dawn called out not at all seriously, “for talking back to her mistress like that.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Cordy sighed as she continued on her journey to the kitchen, “who’s going to do that then?”

“You wait ‘til I totally find my sister!” Dawn called as Cordelia disappeared through the door into the kitchen.

0=0=0=0

**The Forum Maximus, Tarentum.**

As the name might suggest, the Forum Maximus was the main market in Tarentum and it was here that Cordelia found herself at about midday. After spending the morning shopping, she was hot and footsore. With a grateful sigh she sat down next to the fountain in the middle of the square and took a cooling drink from the water that splashed in the pool around the fountain. Tarentum had an excellent water supply; water was fed via aqueducts to the city straight to the fountains where many people got their water from as most houses didn’t have a private supply.

Having refreshed herself, Cordelia put her mind to work on the problem of how she and Dawn where going to amass a fortune. Okay, they had enough money to last them a couple of years if they were careful, but like Dawn had said, ‘more was better’. Sighing, Cordelia stared despondently at the cobblestones of the market place as people hurried by, unwittingly her foot started to tap in rhythm to the sound of a group of street musicians who were playing close by.

“I suppose Dawn could get to be the mistress of some rich politician,” Cordelia said to herself, “then I’d be the slave of a high class hooker.”

The music was getting louder as the musicians made their way around the market taking ‘donations’ from passers by. Pushing thoughts of Dawn being a hooker and herself being her maid to one side, Cordelia found herself clapping her hands softly in time to the music. It was a catchy little tune with a strong beat, good for dancing to; Cordelia liked dancing which was one reason she’d been attracted to cheerleading. Watching as the musicians walked slowly by, Cordelia smiled as an idea came to her mind; why hadn’t she thought about it before? Like all the best ideas it was stunning in its simplicity and better still it wouldn’t involve either Dawn or herself lying on their backs and opening their legs for anyone…well it might, but not in the way she’d been thinking about originally.

Standing up, Cordelia reached into her purse and produced a small bronze coin before tossing it into the cup help by the monkey that sat on one of the musician’s shoulders. Looking around, Cordelia couldn’t immediately see what she was looking for, grabbing a passing woman Cordelia stared into her eyes like a thing possessed.

“Slave market?” Cordelia demanded.

More than a little frightened of the obviously insane slave woman who’d grabbed her; the woman pointed with a trembling finger towards the far corner of the market square.

“Thank-you,” Cordelia let go of the woman, slipped a very small bronze coin into her hand and started off towards the slave market area of the market.

As she made her way through the crowd, plans started to form in her mind; she’d need about eight girls. It would probably be better if she got girls who’d no previous dance experience they’d just need to be healthy, fit and pretty. They’d need costumes of course, but she’d already seen a few stalls that sold clothing; pom-poms might be a problem though. Frowning a little Cordelia decided where she might be able to get pom-poms from could wait ‘til another day.

Finding herself on the edge of slave market Cordelia paused as she remembered that not so long ago she’d been the one sitting naked and frightened on the floor of a slave pen. Not intending to buy today, Cordelia watched several transactions and auctions take place, once she had an idea of the cost of teenage girls, she moved on. Making her way across the market to the cloth and clothes maker’s stalls; she walked slowly up and down the lines of stalls examining the goods available. Stopping at a stall that seemed to be offering good quality material (Cordelia always bought the best, it worked out cheaper in the long run). Searching through the goods on display she quickly found what she was looking for; a simple short tunic. Turning to the stall holder she indicated the tunic.

“How much?” Cordelia demanded.

“Twenty,” the stall holder replied after a moments thought.

“TWENTY!” Cordelia shrieked in disgust, “I wouldn’t give you one for this rag!”

“RAG!” The stall holder (a Jewish looking man in bright robes and a bushy beard) “Rag you say!?” He grabbed hold of the tunic and thrust some of the stitching under Cordelia’s nose, “Look at the stitching, look at the quality, look at the love put into every stitch! Fifteen!”

“Fifteen! I wouldn’t…” Cordelia made to turn away but before she’d taken more than half a step she turned back and examined the stitching, it was actually good work, “Okay, I’ll give you three and that’s still more than its worth.”

“Three!?” gasped the stallholder in disgust, he looked to the small crowd that had gathered to watch the fun. “Three she says, three is an insult to my aged mother who stayed up all night stitching this by candle light! I spit on your three!” he spat on the ground to prove his point, “Thirteen…”

The haggling went on for several more minutes until Cordelia and the stallholder agreed on seven-and-a-half, which was a fair price. Handing over the money Cordelia smiled at the stallholder.

“You’re good,” said the stallholder who’s name was Abraham, “Romans aren’t usually that good at bargaining.”

“That’s because I’m not a Roman and I learnt to haggle in Jerusalem,” Cordelia replied as she held up her purchase to the light.

“Oi-vay!” Exclaimed Abraham, “Jerusalem? I should have known, your master or mistress must think themselves very lucky to own you.”

“I try,” Cordelia admitted, “say, maybe you could help me with something else.”

“Ask and I’ll see what I can do,” Abraham looked at Cordelia with interest.

“If my ‘mistress’ agrees we’re going to need a few more of these,” Cordelia gestured to the tunic.

“I can do you a discount for multiple orders,” Abraham pointed out.

“That’s cool,” Cordelia pointed out, “but what I really wanted to know was, can you dye them?”

“Depends on what colour you want,” Abraham shrugged.

“Yellow and red,” Cordelia said with a smile, “and there might be one or two other things I’ll need…”

0=0=0=0

**Dawn and Cordelia’s villa.**

“…erotic cheerleading?” Dawn asked; her smoked fish and banana* sandwich frozen half way to her mouth.

“Hey!” Cordelia smiled broadly, “You’ve got to admit they’ll never see it coming.”

“I don’t know,” Dawn hesitated, “cheerleading, well yeah I can see where you’re coming from but, erotic?”

“I’m not planning on letting the girls wear underwear,” Cordelia explained, “and it might have escaped your notice,” Cordelia continued in her best ‘take charge’ tone of voice, “that everything in this country is totally ‘erotic’, there’s more erotic than you can shake a stick at, its like the Las Vegas for erotic.”

“I suppose,” Dawn agreed reluctantly, “but where do we get the money for the girls?”

“Look,” Cordelia leaned across the table towards Dawn, “I’ve worked it all out.”

“Uh-huh,” it sounded like Dawn would need convincing.

“You know that necklace with the rubies,” Cordelia asked, “the one you never wear?”

“It makes my eyes look bloodshot,” Dawn explained.

“Right,” Cordelia began to expand on the details of her plan, “we sell that and use the proceeds to buy the girls and the other stuff we need.”

“Okay,” Dawn nodded slowly, “then what?”

“I train them,” Cordelia announced confidently, “I should have them ready to do basic cheers and stunts in about two weeks.”

“Okay,” Dawn still wasn’t a hundred percent convinced but she was warming to the idea, anything was better than a career as a hooker or as someone’s mistress, “so where do they sleep?”

“Well,” Cordelia looked around the apartment, “we’ve plenty of rooms that we don’t use. We can stop renting the house-girls as the cheerleaders can help out while they’re not training. If needs be we can feed them on oatmeal until they start to pay for themselves.”

“They’ll need fruit to stop them getting spotty and their teeth from falling out,” Dawn pointed out.

“Yeah, okay,” Cordelia replied with a frown just before she realised that by expressing her concerns for the girl’s welfare Dawn was sort of agreeing to the idea. “Why don’t you look after their diet and stuff?” 

“Okay,” Dawn said after a moment’s more thought, “lets do it!”

“Yes!” Cordelia stood up, reached across the table and taking Dawn’s face in her hands planted a big kiss on her lips before sitting down again.

“You’re pleased then?” Dawn replied once she’d recovered from her kissing.

“Oh gods yes!” Cordelia sighed, “No way was I going to be the slave to someone’s mistress.”

“Oh I’m glad about that,” Dawn said with a smirk that Cordelia completely failed to notice, “had my future career all planned out did you?”.

“We can practice in the yard,” Cordelia started to count off points on her fingers as she ignored what Dawn was saying, “we’ll need eight girls to begin with. Six for the team and two alternates in case anyone gets injured.” Cordelia paused for a breath as Dawn sat and watched her, a bemused expression on her face. “You’ll need to drum up custom, you know people having birthday orgies and the like…”

The two young women sat late into the evening as they discussed their plans for being the owners of the world’s first, erotic cheerleading team. Finally, Dawn yawned and brought the discussion to a halt.

“Hey look its dark,” she pointed to the windows, “let’s get to bed and we can start getting things ready early tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Cordelia agreed as she got up and started to close the window shutters and check that the door was locked for the night, “in the morning I’ll show you the tunics I picked out.”

“Tunics?” Dawn had half expected Cordelia to tell her that the girls would be dancing nude.

“Oh yeah,” Cordelia cleared away the remains of their supper as Dawn blew out the lamps, “a cheerleader team’s got to have a uniform.”

After a quick wash, both young women took off their clothes and climbed into bed; after wishing each other good night they turned onto their sides and quickly fell asleep.

0=0=0=0

*:Yes I know, no bananas in the Roman world. This is a running joke that will be fully explained in the next ‘Back in the SPQR’ story. 


	24. Chapter 24

24.

**The House of Aestatis.**

Lulled by Cordelia’s steady breathing from beside her, Dawn quickly fell into a deep sleep. No sooner did it seem she’d fallen asleep that she found herself wide awake again and standing in the student’s entrance back at Sunnydale Junior High. Standing there in the middle of the floor she watched as all her old school mates filed by her. No one was paying her very much attention. This was odd because while all the students were wearing the normal everyday clothes you’d expect to see in an American high school in the late 1990’s; Dawn was wearing her best Roman dress, the one she kept for important occasions.

“Must be a dream,” Dawn told herself as she walked along the corridor looking into classrooms as she went.

Very soon she found herself outside her old art classroom. Looking in through the windows she saw a class studiously drawing the ‘space around’ the statue just as she’d done on that fateful day when Buffy had told her that their mother had died. Tears came to her eyes as she looked over to the spot where she and Buffy had stood. Remembering her heart breaking and how she’d accused Buffy of lying to her; of all her uncharitable thoughts that had come to her mind about her sister. Dawn sobbed quietly as she stood all alone in the hallway.

“I’m sorry, Buffy,” Dawn said aloud to the empty corridor.

“I’m sorry too,” said a voice from behind her, “I should never have brought you here.”

Turning, Dawn found herself staring in to the wide dark eyes of a strikingly beautiful middle-eastern woman who was dressed like a teacher.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable in familiar surrounding,” the woman smiled sadly, “I forgot this place would bring back unhappy memories.” Sighing she took hold of Dawn’s arm and led her away from the art class, “I know I should have gone with the usual dry ice and light show thing…but no, everyone said this was better, sheesh!”

“I’m sorry?” Dawn sniffed, “Who are you?”

“I,” the young woman miraculously produced a box of Kleenex out of thin air and held them out to Dawn, “am the Goddess Ishtar.”

“Ishtar?” Dawn took a handful of Kleenex and wiped her eyes and blew her nose; the box and the soiled Kleenex vanished before she could find a bin to drop them in, “You mean, like…”

“Yes,” Ishtar sighed heavily, “remember? ‘Oh please get me out of this cell, Ishtar. I’ll try to be a better person’ and who do you think sent those dogs to deal with those skeletons, hmm?”

“Yeah,” Dawn nodded her head, “I thought that was weird, I mean it would have been a totally wicked coincidence if a whole bunch of dogs came by just as…”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Ishtar said becoming slightly impatient, “but I’m not here to collect on any promises.”

“You're not?” Dawn asked slightly relieved, being in debt to a goddess could be just a little tricky.

“No, I’m not that sort of goddess,” Ishtar paused and looked through the glass panels of a door.

Recognising where they were, Dawn joined Ishtar at the doorway and found herself looking in on the gym where a girl’s gymnastic class was being held.

“Oh my!” Dawn gasped as she watched the naked teenage girls perform their routines, “That never happened when I was at school.” 

“I never did understand this thing you people have about keeping your clothes on when you’re doing something athletic,” Ishtar shook her head as they moved on down the corridor, “so I changed things a little.”

“So,” Dawn asked as they walked side by side, “if you’re not here to collect on a debt, then why?”

“Why?” Ishtar smiled indulgently at the mortal by her side, “You were more honest than most when you asked for my help,” she pointed out. “You didn’t promise to make sacrifices to me or build temples, you said you’d try to do better. Honesty like that, especially when you want a goddess’ help, is hard to come by…so, I thought I’d come and check that you were well and everything was working out for you.”

“Oh,” Dawn shrugged, she didn’t know what to say really, “everything’s fine, Cordy’s fine, I’m…”

“Ah!” a serious look came across Ishtar’s face at the mention of Cordelia’s name.

“Oh God!” Dawn gasped.

“That’s me,” Ishtar agreed.

“No I mean…” Dawn paused and took a deep breath, “…she’s alright, isn’t she? I mean nothing bad’s going to happen to her.”

“Not as far as I know,” Ishtar explained, “but she needs you to love her…” Ishtar saw the worried look in Dawn’s eyes, “…in a purely sisterly way. She’s not had much real love in her life that’s why she used to try and find it in the arms of feckless boys and by surrounding herself with hangers-on. She needs to know that she’s wanted, that someone cares for her.”

“Sure, I care about her,” Dawn cried, “it’s just that sometimes…”

“I know she’s a little bossy…” Ishtar replied only to be interrupted by Dawn.

“A little?”

“Well, maybe a lot,” Ishtar continued, “but maybe sometimes she’s bossy for a reason?”

“Oh,” Dawn nodded her head, she thought she understood what the goddess was saying.

“You know,” Ishtar pushed open a door and they walked out onto the school sports field, “secretly she likes being your slave…”

“She does!?” Dawn stopped dead in her tracks with surprise.

“Yes,” Ishtar stopped and looked back at Dawn and amused expression on her face, “I think you’ll find that when you get that new removable collar she won’t actually remove it that often.” The human and the goddess started walking again, “Oh, she’ll take it off eventually, but only in her own time.”

Dawn was having difficulty believing what the goddess was saying, Cordy enjoyed being her slave!? That was almost too weird to handle.

“Now, let me see,” Ishtar glanced at her wrist watch, “one or two things I’ve got to explain, I mean I can’t stay here all night, you’ve got to get some proper sleep in your condition…”

“Hey!” Again Dawn stopped, “Back up there, what do you mean in my condition? Have I got something wrong with me?”

“Ask Cordelia about it tomorrow,” Ishtar linked her arm through Dawn’s and gently pulled her back into motion so they could continue their walk, “you’ll be fine, after all I am the Goddess of sex, love and fertility.”

“Huh?” Dawn couldn’t say she was enlightened, but there were a couple of things she’d been meaning to ask Cordelia about, so…

“First,” Ishtar was all business now, “Cordelia’s erotic cheerleaders will be a big success.”

“Oh good,” Dawn sighed in relief, she’d try to be a little more whole hearted in her support of Cordelia’s project from now on.

“Second, you’ll find your sister in Pompeii not Rome,” Ishtar pointed out, “I don’t know where you got this idea she was in Rome.” The goddess pursed her lips, “I mean her ghost clearly said ‘Pompeii’.”

“But doesn’t Pompeii get blown up by the volcano?” Dawn asked slightly worried.

“Yes,” nodded Ishtar, “but not for nearly a hundred years yet.”

“Oh, good,” Dawn nodded her head slowly, “So I’ll find Buffy there?”

“Yes, you’ll find her in Pompeii,” Ishtar explained, “she’ll be surrounded by people who love her and care for her, but only you can set her free.”

“Like, how?” Dawn wanted to know.

“Your tears,” Ishtar said mysteriously, “only the tears of her sister can set her free.”

“Gee,” Dawn gasped, “mega responsibility.”

“Don’t worry,” the goddess smiled, “as I say they’ll be plenty of people who’ll want to help.”

“Anything else?” Dawn asked.

“Only,” Ishtar looked slightly uncomfortable, “if you can see your way clear to make an offering to me at the Temple of Isis in Pompeii, I’d be most appreciative…but only if you’ve got the time. Freeing your sister is so much more important.”

“Sure,” Dawn grinned, “not a problem. Say, you’re nothing like what I expected a god or goddess to be like.”

“How so?” Ishtar asked intrigued.

“Well, you’ve not smited anyone,” Dawn pointed out, “and you haven’t given me any commandments, no ‘Thou shall nots…’!”

“What am I going to say?” Ishtar asked, “Thou shall’t not screw or something?” The goddess laughed, “That would be silly, anyway it’s all part of this ‘freewill’ thing us gods are trying out. Personally I don’t think it’ll catch on, sometimes people need to be told what to do, have the fear of me put into them!”

Dawn didn’t really know what to say about that so she said nothing.

“Anyway,” once again Ishtar looked at her watch, “I’ve got to be going and you need your sleep.”

“But…!” Dawn opened her mouth, she had so many questions to ask, chief amongst them was what she was supposed to do after she’d freed her sister.

“Time for bed,” said Ishtar adding, “BONG!”

0=0=0=0

Opening her eyes Dawn yawned, stretched and saw that it was morning. Sitting up she noticed the empty space beside her, Cordelia had obviously already got up to get the breakfast ready. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Dawn sat there for a moment, for a wonder she didn’t feel at all queasy this morning, nor did she feel ravenously hungry, however her breasts did feel a little tender today.

Frowning she stood up and headed for the privy, she really needed to ask Cordelia about all this stuff that was happening to her body. Cordy would know, she was older than her and had gone through all this stuff. As she sat there on the privy Dawn wished her mom or Buffy was there to tell her all the things she needed to know. But they weren’t, anyway she had Cordy and Cordy was nicer than people thought, a lot nicer. Standing up again Dawn realised that Cordelia was like a sister to her, the thought made her smile; she must remember to tell her that sometime soon. But in the mean time today was going to be a busy day and they needed to get on if they wanted to do everything they’d planned to.

0=0=0=0

“Here!” Cordelia said with a big grin on her face as she presented herself for Dawn’s approval.

“Wow!” Dawn said quietly as her eye travelled up and down Cordelia’s outfit; to be honest it didn’t have very far to go because there wasn’t a lot of outfit to look at.

Standing in front of Dawn, Cordelia wore a plain white tunic gathered at the waist with a simple cord belt, it was about as long as a cheerleader’s skirt would be and only did up on the left shoulder so it exposed her right breast.

“This is only a prototype,” Cordy explain, “the real ones I’m having dyed yellow and I thought I’d have strips of red cloth sewn on around the skirt, I’ve got a guy at the market who’s willing to do the work. In the mean time I’ll dress the girls in normal short tunics, what’d’ya think?”

“I think,” Dawn smiled, “I think its wicked cool, Cordy!”

“Hey!” Cordelia smiled fit to burst, “Wait, I’ll do a short routine.”

Sitting back, Dawn watched as Cordy spelt out Dawn’s Roman name, it was a bit weird because some of the letters really needed two girls to do properly. But when Cordy had finished Dawn gave her a rousing round of applause.

“Hey, wow!” Dawn rushed over to her friend and gave her a big hug, “Gotta say Cordy, with the no underwear thing I think U’s and V’s are going to be real popular!”

“If you liked that,” Cordelia smirked, “wait ‘til you see my W’s!”

Dawn couldn’t remember seeing Cordelia look so happy, it must be because she’s feeling she was doing something useful.

0=0=0=0

After changing into their street clothes, the two young women set out on their tasks for the day. First they went down to the city’s tiny Jewish quarter where they visited a moneylender. There were Roman money leaders but Dawn preferred working with the Jewish ones. They tended to be more honest than local ones and you got a better deal; also there were Jewish enclaves all over the Empire and a letter of credit from one moneylender in one town would be honoured by another in a different town. Using several pieces of jewellery that Dawn never wore as collateral they got cash and credit notes enough to cover their expenses with some left over.

Well pleased with the deal she’d made, Dawn led the way to the market and then let Cordelia lead her over to the slave market. Here they started to inspect the girls on sale. Very quickly, Dawn got bored with watching Cordelia putting girls through their paces to see if they’d make good cheerleaders. Ignoring the bemused looks on the faces of the slave merchants at Cordelia’s odd requests, Dawn slipped away telling Cordy she was going to look around the market.

Wandering slowly through the late morning crowds, Dawn inspected the goods on display. There were one or two things she’d liked to have bought but she stopped herself. Although she was rich now, she soon wouldn’t be if she spent money unwisely. When the cheerleaders were a success as she was sure they would be, perhaps then she’d treat herself and Cordy to a few little luxuries.

Stopping at a stall selling weapons and pot and pans, Dawn looked up at sign above the stall. ‘As Used By Fidelia Venetrix!’ the words proclaimed in neat lettering. For those who couldn’t read there was a picture of a gladiatrix fighting a blue demon. Raising her eyebrow Dawn smiled at the picture, no one could have boobs that big and not fall over, she thought.

“Can I help you Domina?” Asked the stall holder.

“I-I don’t know yet,” Dawn glanced at the man giving him a quick smile; he was middle-aged, what hair he had left was silver and the missing fingers on his right hand told her he’d either been a soldier or a gladiator.

“What sort of thing are you looking for?” He asked politely, “As you can see,” he spread his arms to encompass all the goods on display, “Domina Fidelia’s workshops produce all manner of things. Good quality at affordable prices is her motto.”

Dawn raised her eyebrow again, it was unusual to hear of a woman running a business. As this thought was going through her mind something on the table caught her eye.

“May I?” Dawn pointed to the odd looking dagger.

“Be my guest, Domina,” the stall holder picked up the knife and handed it to Dawn.

The weapon fitted perfectly into her hand. The blade was about four inches long and about one-and-a-half inches wide at the hilt. It was obvious how it was supposed to be used. Holding the knife, Dawn tried a couple of practice punches. The weapon was almost flat so it could easily be hidden under her clothes and the blade would slip effortlessly between an attacker’s ribs.

“I see Domina is familiar with weapons,” the stall holder said quietly, “those are good for home defence or in the street.”

“I’ve had some training,” Dawn admitted; she was thinking that with extra slaves around the house and probably having to go out at night it might be a good idea for Cordy and herself to carry protection. “How much for two and sheaths to go with them?”

The haggling went quickly because Domina Fidelia’s prices were fair and good value. Happy with her purchases, Dawn paid the man and hid the knives under her dress. A few stalls along she bought a cheap basket and placed the knives in that. Feeling her tummy rumble for its lunch, Dawn decided to head back to the slave market.

Here she found Cordy still making deals with the traders; she’d already bought four girls who were now sitting on the floor tearing hungrily into small loaves of bread. Frowning slightly Dawn noticed that the girls all looked a little thin. It was odd for a trader to starve his stock, no one wanted to buy skinny slave girls.

“How’s it going?” Dawn whispered to Cordelia just as she was finishing a deal.

“Nearly finished, here,” Cordelia nodded, as she collected up some papers from the table in front of her, “I just need your signature to finalise the deal and the money of course.”

“My signature?” Dawn asked as she pulled the heavy purse from between her breasts.

“Hey,” Cordy fingered the collar around her neck, “You’re the citizen, I’m just a slave I can’t make deals.”

“Yeah okay,” Dawn frowned at Cordy wishing she’d take the offer of freedom that Dawn had given her, but she seemed happy as she was so…

After signing all the papers to transfer ownership of the girls to herself, Cordelia got the eight girls they now owned into a line before tying their collars together with pieces of rope.

“Its not that I’m worried they’ll run off,” Cordelia explained, “I just don’t want to lose any of them on the way home.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dawn agreed as she ran her eyes over the raggedly dressed girls, her nose wrinkled at the smell of sweat emanating from them, “we’ll need to get them cleaned up before they stink the house up.”

“And a couple of good meals wouldn’t go amiss,” Cordelia added.

Taking hold of the piece of rope that hung lose from the lead girl’s collar, Cordy turned to the girls.

“Come on, you lot,” she called, “time to take you to your new home, forward march!”

0=0=0=0

It was late in the evening and Dawn and Cordelia were taking it easy before heading off to their bed. They’d got the girls home without incident; the first order of business was to get them out of their ragged, dirty tunics. Next they were told to wash-up in the court yard, once the first few layers of grim were removed they were allowed to dry themselves off and Cordy issued them with their new tunics. Next they were given a good meal; by the way a few of them stuffed food into their mouths it was probably the first good feed they’d had in ages.

Finally, with all the girls washed and fed, Cordelia bedded them down in the spare bedrooms. Normally slaves slept upstairs in the slave quarters, but tonight, Cordelia wanted to be able to lock them in so they wouldn’t be tempted to run off in the night. She put the girls two to a room with a blanket each and a big jug of water and a slop bucket in each cell.

“Who’d have thought owning slaves would be such hard work?” Dawn sighed as she lay back on her couch.

“You wait until tomorrow when I start training them,” Cody replied, “I can see I’m going to have to start from basics, like teaching them to count so they can keep time.”

“Don’t worry,” Dawn reached over to take Cordelia’s hand in her own, “I’ll help out.”

“Thanks Domina,” Cordelia replied, the word just slipping out without her thinking about it, “I mean Dawn.”

“Whatever,” Dawn yawned, “lets get to bed I’m pooped…there was something I was going to ask you, but it’ll keep ‘til tomorrow.”

“Tell me,” Cordelia got up and then helped Dawn up off her couch, “or I won’t be able to sleep wondering what you want.”

“You sure?” Dawn asked as they headed for their bedroom.

“Tell me already,” Cordelia insisted.

“Well,” Dawn screwed up her face in concentration, “it’s a bit personal.”

“Go on,” Cordelia sighed as she deposited Dawn on the edge of their bed, “I’ll play the mom this once, what do you need to know?”

“Well,” Dawn took a deep breath, “you know sometimes I feel all queasy and others I feel real hungry?”

Cordelia nodded her head wondering if this was what it was like to be the big sister.

“And my boobs have definitely been getting bigger,” Dawn continued, “and this morning they felt all tender…”

“Uh-huh,” again Cordelia nodded her head only this time it was with just a sliver of worry, something didn’t sound right here.

“…and I’ve missed my last three periods,” Dawn turned towards Cordelia hopefully, “is this normal?”

0=0=0=0


	25. Chapter 25

25.

The Epilogue.

Life, thought Dawn, was freaking unfair! She’d had sex precisely once and she was pregnant (about three months gone as it happened) and that was even after her fiancé had taken his ‘thingy’ out before he’d ‘arrived’. Maybe he hadn’t been quick enough and did some of it inside her but that was still so totally unfair; she’d not even been in charge of her body when it had happened. This was all Princess Roshan’s fault, the girl seemed to fall on her back and open her legs at the drop of a toga! Bitch!

Sighing, Dawn placed her hand on her belly, whoever's fault it was she knew she’d love the child. After all it was Varro’s and she’d loved him in her own strange little way, plus she’d promised to name her first born for him. Which was fine if it was a boy, Dawn wondered if there was a female version of the name.

After exploding a little, Cordelia had calmed down and been supportive hugging Dawn while she cried as the thought of impending parenthood hit home. Now there was a thought, Dawn sat up on the couch where she’d lain in self-pity; Cordelia had had sex loads of time with Ehsan, why wasn’t she pregnant? 

Shrugging, Dawn got to her feet; whatever the reason, Cordelia wasn’t pregnant and she was starting to train the girls today and Dawn’d promised to help. Pausing in her walk towards the yard were Cordy and the girls where, another troubling thought came to Dawn’s mind. The girls seemed to eat an awful lot, hopefully this would settle down once they recovered from their privations at the hands of the slave merchant. There was more than met the eye to owning slaves, it wasn’t all just sitting back and being fed peeled grapes.

“Well,” Dawn took a deep breath, “lets get on with this business they call show.”

0=0=0=0

“My name is Cordelia, that’s Coach to you losers!” Cordelia walked along the line of nervous would-be cheerleaders as they stood trembling in the middle of the yard. “You may all belong to Domina Aurora, BUT!” Cordelia had got to the end of the line and then turned to face the girls, they all jumped at the sound of her voice, “It’s me that you have to worry about, and it’s me that you need to please. When I say jump, all I want to hear from you is ‘How high coach?’ Understand?”

The girls mumbled something about understanding.

“I can’t hear you!” Cordelia explained.

“We understand, coach,” the girls replied in a ragged chorus.

“Louder! Sound off like you’ve got a pair!” Cordelia had heard the phrase in a film once and thought it might be appropriate here.

“WE UNDERSTAND COACH!!!” Yelled the girls, still a little raggedly but it seemed to satisfy Cordy for now.

“Better,” Cordelia went and stood facing the middle of the line, she took a breath. “While you’re with me,” she explained, “you will not be beaten; neither will you be expected to play the whore. You will be well fed and clothed, if you perform well you will even be given a little money as a reward.” Cordelia speared each girl with a look as cold as ice, “Don’t think that just because I won’t beat you that you can do what you like,” Cordelia appeared to be looking into the very soul of each girl, “Annoy me and you’ll be wishing you were in Hades being whipped by demons, understand?”

“WE UNDERSTAND COACH!!!” The girl’s yelled back.

“Good,” Cordelia smiled and nodded her head, “now lets get on with some work…we’ll start with some Star-Jumps.”

Cordelia demonstrated a Star-Jump.

“Good,” She said once she saw that the girls had got the idea of what they were supposed to do, “now keep doing that until I tell you to stop, GO!”

Seeing Dawn standing over by the door to the small stable, she walked over to her and smiled.

“What do you think?” Cordelia asked.

“I don’t know,” Dawn shrugged, “having like zero experience with cheerleading I’ll have to bow to your expertise.”

“Oh, I think they’ll be okay,” Cordelia glanced over to where the girls were still doing their exercise.

“So what do you want me to do?” Dawn noticed that one or two of the girls were starting to flag; that would soon change once they were fully fit.

“In a day or so I’ll probably need you to help me teach them to count and keep time,” Cordelia went on, “until then…”

“Until then,” Dawn interrupted, “I’ll concentrate of the household accounts,” she gestured to the girls, “We better start making some money soon they’re eating us out of house and home!”

“Yeah well,” Cordelia replied defensively, they were her girls and she was already sounding a little protective, “I should have them ready to do a basic show in two or three weeks, you better drum up some customers.”

“And you better look out for your girls,” Dawn nodded to where the girls lay or sat panting on the cobblestones.

“What the Hades is going on!?” Cordelia turned and stormed over to the exhausted girls, “Did I tell you to stop? Get back on your feet this instant!”

Smiling at Cordelia’s fierce tone, Dawn walked slowly back to the house where she sat down at her desk and started to go through the accounts. Things weren’t quite as bad as she’d implied, but they needed to start making money soon they also needed to start thinking about getting up to Pompeii; after all she had a sister to rescue.

0=0=0=0

**The House of Sextus, Pompeii, almost at the same time.**

Standing in the reception hall of the, villa, Buffy looked around herself, it certainly looked like a nice house. It was clean and airy and there were excellent murals on the walls while the floor was decorated with a very fine mosaic depicting a hunting scene. Over to one side of the hall stood two slave girls dressed in simple off-white dresses, they too looked clean and well fed, obviously the Domina and Dominus took good care of their property. At the sound of footsteps on the mosaic, Buffy turned to see a woman in her late thirties sail into the hall.

Guessing this must be the lady of the house, Buffy noted her expensive but simple blue dress, her dark hair piled up on her head in the Greek style and the minimum of cosmetics on her face. This was indeed the Domina of the household, Lady Ammonia Sextus. Behind her walked a middle aged man in a slave tunic, this was probably the Domina’s steward.

“Fidelia!” Ammonia cried happily as she altered course in mid stride.

“Hey! Ammonia!” Faith stepped forward and exchanged air-kisses with the Lady Ammonia, “How’s it goin’?”

“Well enough my dear,” Ammonia replied with a smile as her eyes fell on the teenage boy standing next to Faith, “Is this Marius the Younger?” Faith smiled like the proud mother she was, as Ammonia added, “Hasn’t he grown?”

“Greetings, Lady Ammonia,” Marius bowed his head to the woman, “it must be some years since we last met, so yes, I have grown.”

Marius was about thirteen and very grown up for his age; he was well spoken, polite and had been expensively educated. In fact he was almost everything his mother was not, however despite this, or perhaps because of it, mother and son were very close…but not in an ‘icky’ way.

“Oh and such a gentleman,” Ammonia smiled at the boy, “now why don’t you run along and find Nausius or Erotica,” Ammonia referred to her own teenage children; she caught the sharp look Fidelia gave her at the mention of Erotica’s name, “hmmm, maybe not Erotica but I’m sure Nausius is out in the garden somewhere.”

“Mother?” Marius looked at his parent for permission to leave.

“Yeah go on, find Nausius and talk poetry with him,” Fidelia nodded towards the rear of the house; Fidelia wasn’t a prude, but she didn’t want her son mixing with Erotica Sextus, the girl had quite the wrong sort of reputation.

“Ah!” Ammonia’s eyes now fell on Buffy, “this must be your gladiatrix girl,” Ammonia walked up to Buffy and subjected her to close scrutiny, “she’s nothing like I expected, in fact she’s rather pretty,” Ammonia hesitated as she searched for the right words, “in a sort of wild, barbarian way…”

“What did ya expect?” Fidelia frowned slightly at Ammonia’s words, she liked Buffitrix and didn’t like to hear her being disrespected.

“Well,” Ammonia glanced over her shoulder at Fidelia, “when you said ‘gladiatrix’ I was expecting someone more…” Ammonia searched for the right words again, “…shall we say, more muscle bound, bigger and with scars and such.” Ammonia gestured at Buffy, “Your girl here looks…well, dress her up in a nice gown with a little make-up and some jewellery and you could take her anywhere.” 

“Hey,” Fidelia warned, “remember she’s not _my_ girl.”

“Oh, yes of course,” Ammonia nodded before turning to her steward, “Lurcio, have our guest’s things taken to her room, then leave us.”

“Of course, Domina,” Lurcio gestured to the two slave girls who moved forward and took the sacks containing Buffy’s clothes, armour and weapons, both girls staggered under the weight of Buffy’s gear.

“Come through to the atrium,” Ammonia led the way into the courtyard in the middle of the house, “sit,” Ammonia invited Fidelia to take a seat on a couch as she poured her a glass of wine; Buffy wasn’t invited to sit down or offered a glass of wine, instead she stood quietly to one side with her hands clasped in front of her and her head slightly bowed.

The two women spent nearly an hour talking, discussing Buffy’s ‘situation’ and what was to be done with her. Eventually, Lady Fidelia climbed back to her feet; she took the ring that controlled the obedience spell (which had been put on Buffy’s slave collar by the late, Marcus Licinius Crassus may he rot in Hades) from around her neck where it had hung from a gold chain.

“Here,” Fidelia handed the ring and chain to Ammonia, “look after it will ya?”

“I’ll guard it with my life,” Ammonia took the ring and slipped the chain around her neck; she did in fact mean to guard it with her life, she knew what would happen if someone with ill-intent got their hands on it.

“Hey, Trix,” Fidelia turned and clasped Buffy by the shoulders, “you be a good girl an’ do what Lady Ammonia tells ya, okay?”

“Yes Domina,” Buffy had found she couldn’t call Fidelia either by her Roman name or her up time name, until she was properly free she could only think of her as ‘Domina’.

Hugging Buffy to her matronly bosom, Fidelia managed to hide the fact that her eyes had gone misty; she sniffed and surreptitiously wiped her eyes before releasing Buffy.

“Look after y’self,” Fidelia ordered, “I’ll be down every so often to check on ya an’ Eos will be moving down from the villa in a day or two to keep ya company.”

“Thank-you, Domina,” Buffy replied, she was relieved to hear that Eos, her best friend, would be near by.

After calling in Marius, Fidelia said her goodbyes and left Buffy in the care of the Lady Ammonia. When everyone had gone, Ammonia stood in front of Buffy and looked down at her frowning slightly.

“Fidelia tells me you prefer to be called ‘Trix’, is that so?” Ammonia asked, Buffy nodded her head, “Good,” the woman gave a genuine smile, “then Trix you shall be…now about that collar,” Ammonia sighed as she turned away from Buffy and studied one of the flowering bushes that decorated the courtyard. “I believe, Lady Fidelia has freed you, but until we can take that nasty collar off you’re going to have to act like a slave, understand?”

“Yes, Domina,” Buffy replied.

“She also told me I shouldn’t use this ring,” Ammonia touched the ring that hung from the chain around her neck, “but…” Hesitating for a moment, Ammonia reached up and took the ring from around her neck before placing it on her finger. “I hope I only have to do this once,” she turned to look Buffy directly in the eye, “While you wear that collar you will be my, loyal, obedient slave.” Ammonia thought for a moment before adding, “You will do as you are told by the members of my immediate family and you will obey Lurcio’s orders as if they come straight from me, understand?”

“Yes, Domina,” Buffy replied as if in a dream; the orders she’d been given weren’t that odious; however the power of the spell meant that had Ammonia ordered her to kill everyone in her household, Buffy would have obeyed her without thought or question secure in the knowledge that she was doing mistress’ bidding.

“There,” Ammonia removed the ring from her finger and put it back around her neck, “now that wasn’t so bad was it?” Ammonia paused before turning and yelling towards the door, “LURCIO!”

A moment or two later the slave reappeared.

“You yelled, Domina?” he asked in sonorous tones.

“I did indeed,” Ammonia replied, she gestured to Buffy, “this is Trix, my very own gladiatrix. When she’s not training, fighting or doing little jobs for me she can help Scrubba in the kitchen.”

“Of course, Domina,” Lurcio looked Buffy up and down before rolling his eyes.

“Now take her to her room,” Ammonia told Lurcio before turning to Buffy, “you’ll have to sleep upstairs with the rest of the slaves but I think you’ll be comfortable enough, now,” she turned to look back at Lurcio, “what are you waiting for you lazy good for nothing? Get along with you!”

0=0=0=0

Standing in the middle of her new room, Buffy looked around and gave a sort of half laugh. The room was about eight feet by ten, big enough for five or six slaves, but she had it all to herself. The walls had been freshly whitewashed and the floorboards recently scrubbed. There was a little bed with blankets and real linen sheets; there was also a chest of three drawers under the window (the window had no glass in it, but it had shutters) and there were a lot of pegs on the wall to hang her dresses and gear from.

Walking over to where the sacks with her belongings had been left, she started to unpack. Lady Ammonia appeared nice enough and that Lurcio guy seemed alright too. Wondering what the rest of the family and their slaves would be like, she started to hang up her clothes. This, she decided, was a much nicer room than her cell at the Batiatus Gladiator School had been. For a start it was above ground, in fact if she climbed up on top of the chest of drawers she’d be able to see out the window. But the very best thing about the room was that the bolt that secured the door was on the inside.

“Yeah,” Buffy looked around her room once more, “I think I could be happy here.”

The End.

This is the end of Book Four in the Back in the SPQR series. The final book, Book Five, OMNES UNA MANET NOX, will be posted shortly.


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